


the way he said his name

by undercookeddaichi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Accidental edging, Actual Blowjob, Aged-Up Character(s), Almost blowjob, Alpha Iwaizumi Hajime, Alpha Kuroo Tetsurou, Alpha Sakusa Kiyoomi, Alpha Sawamura Daichi, Alpha Ushijima Wakatoshi, Alpha commands, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Beta Matsukawa Issei, Bonding, Chocolate Strawberries, Claiming Bites, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dream Sex, Drinking, Drunk Oikawa Tooru, Drunk Sugawara Koushi, Explicit Language, Getting Together, Hickies, Knotting, M/M, Making Out, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mild BDSM, Mutual Pining, Nishinoya and Tanaka drive Uber, Oikawa Tooru is a Tease, Omega Miya Atsumu, Omega Oikawa Tooru, Omega Sugawara Koushi, Omega Tendou Satori, Omega Verse, Pheromones, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Rich Oikawa Tooru, Rough Kissing, Sakusa and Iwaizumi are roommates, Scenting, Slow Burn, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tribbing, University Student Iwaizumi Hajime, Wet Dream, birth control pills, carwash AU, hand restraints, iwachan washes cars, oikawa is a slut, punishment kink, safewords are sexy, using protection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:21:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 107,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26136412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undercookeddaichi/pseuds/undercookeddaichi
Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime, a grad student working at a local car wash (who doesn't have time for omegas). Oikawa Tooru, a spoiled rich boy with too much time and too much beauty (who prefers to ghost alphas once he's had his fun with them). Opposites attract, or so they say.
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi, not mentioned but assume kuroken
Comments: 906
Kudos: 2130





	1. Chapter 1

He doesn’t normally like to take it off, particularly on a Saturday afternoon with more passing eyes on him than usual.

But sometimes, it’s just too goddamn hot for Iwaizumi to keep his shirt on.

He clears his throat a little bit, tugging at the sleeves of his t-shirt as he lifts his arms over his head. It’s a ratty blue shirt he wore in high school, back in his volleyball days, so there’s no good reason why he still has it. Well, it’s a good thing to wash cars in anyway. 

“Trying to get us more business?” Matsukawa grins, adjusting one of the plastic chairs beside Iwaizumi and slumping down into it. He has a couple thousand yen riding on a bet they made about when those shitty plastic chairs will break, Matsukawa betting never, and Iwaizumi insisting before summer ends. There’s not much else to talk about.

Iwaizumi smirks as he folds his shirt against his leg. “If only. I don’t think anyone’s gonna see me shirtless and decide it’s worth 1,500 yen and thirty minutes to have their car washed, though. But thanks.” 

“I think you’d be surprised.”

“I’m sure you do.” 

“I’m just saying, there are a lot of horny omegas out there, and you’ve got alpha written all over those heart-wrenching muscles of yours.” 

Iwaizumi clears his throat, wishes it didn’t sound so unnatural. “You shouldn’t make generalizations like that. About omegas.” 

Matsukawa puts his arms up. “My bad.”

A somewhat awkward silence passes between them. It doesn’t bother Iwaizumi so much, though, he’s used to standing up for omegas during alpha and beta banter. The way people treat omegas has always been a point of contention for him, something that never sat right in his chest. He clears his throat again. 

“Heart-wrenching, huh?” Iwaizumi eventually says. 

Matsukawa does a weird thing with his mouth and nods like Iwaizumi is stupid for not already knowing that. “Of course.”

“Right, right.” 

“See?” Matsukawa stands up as a silver car turns into the gas station parking lot. “It’s already working.” 

And fine, maybe as Iwaizumi opens the door for the driver, an omega woman in her early thirties with red-orange curls, he can smell a bit of interest wafting off of her. But that doesn’t mean his exposed chest is the only reason she decided her car needs a cleaning. And maybe she bows her head to him on instinct rather than individual will as she hands him a wad of cash. Maybe. 

It’s not his fault that standing in the sun for four hours in the middle of summer makes him sweat through his clothes, not to mention four hours of abusing his muscles with repetitive circular motions and a sponge. He can’t help his build, either, not like it’s anything he should be shy about. He’s been athletic since grade school. Sports came before pretty much everything else and his muscles are apart of his body indefinitely now it seems. It doesn’t hurt that he goes to the gym on weekends and works at the car wash on Saturdays and Wednesdays, either.

“Rock, paper, scissors for the front.” Matsukawa whispers without really trying to whisper as they carry their buckets to the car. 

“Fine.” 

Iwaizumi loses with rock and Matsukawa can’t wipe the smug look off his face even though Iwaizumi couldn’t care less; he doesn’t have the same adversity to cleaning windshields as the beta does.

He can tell the woman is staring as he scrubs the hood of her car based on the smell a breeze carries, but he ignores it. He tries his best to avoid the looks Matsukawa keeps giving him, too. 

“Uh, hello?” Matsukawa raises his eyebrows as the omega drives off a half an hour later. “First of all, told you. Second of all, she was waiting for you to ask for her number.”

Iwaizumi sighs, wiping his hands on his pants after dragging their soapy buckets back to the curb. “I’ve said it before, I’m not into female omegas. Plus, I’m too busy with grad school to even think about courting anyone.” 

“And I’ve said before that I’m a grad student, too, but I still have a boyfriend.”

“You and Hanamaki are highschool sweethearts. That’s different.” 

“Sure.” Matsukawa's voice drips sarcasm like it always does. “What are you studying again?” 

“Aerospace engineering.” 

“Ah, right, space shit.”

“Basically.” 

Iwaizumi responded to a “we’re hiring” sign at this gas station the summer he moved to the city for grad school a couple years ago. He didn’t expect much other than to make a little spending money since all the work he did on campus went towards tuition. There aren’t many places to get a car wash in the area, and it’s a fine location for one, lots of working class people around who don’t mind waiting for the low price.

He worked with high schoolers last year mainly (which sort of sucked if he’s honest), but Matsukawa started this year and it’s nice having someone his age around. His sarcasm is refreshing since Iwaizumi spends a lot of time with very straightforward people given his major. What can he say, space is cool. 

Matsukawa opens some game on his phone and Iwaizumi kicks around a pebble on the pavement as they wait. They’re pretty busy on Saturdays, at least until around 4 PM when there’s always a bit of a lull, so Iwaizumi’s surprised when the sound of skidding tires yanks his attention up.

More than surprised.

“Holy shit.” Matsukawa blinks. 

Iwaizumi squints at the car, knits his brows together as if he can’t see right, and maybe he can’t. That would explain why there’s a fucking rose gold BMW pulling up to their car wash stand. 

Matsukawa stands up beside Iwaizumi, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Should I ask if they made a wrong turn?” 

Iwaizumi isn’t sure what to do. For a moment, both of them just stare, waiting to see if the car is here for gas or to send a text or make a phone call… But they’re very clearly parked in the spot reserved for car washes. 

“Well, I mean, I guess I should go ask-” 

But before Iwaizumi can finish stuttering, the driver's door is opened and slammed and a man steps into view. A tall man. Taller than Iwaizumi. A man with tousled brown hair that looks soft, unbelievably soft, and eyes the same shade. His makeup almost looks professionally done, or maybe not, and his outfit, his blouse, Iwaizumi is shit when it comes to fashion, but he can tell this guy is trendy. He’s, well, he’s beautiful. He’s…

* * *

“Tooru, it’s time to wake up. I let you sleep in as late as I could, but you’ll be rushed if you stay in bed any longer.” Harumi opens the blinds and floods Oikawa’s bedroom with a painful amount of sunlight. 

He groans, an obnoxiously loud groan, yanking plush covers over his head. An alcohol-induced headache thrums in his ears. His memories of last night are a little blurry. They always are. 

“M’what time is it?” Oikawa mumbles.

“Around 1 PM. You have lunch with your father in an hour and dinner with Ushijima-san tonight.”

“Ugh.” Oikawa manages to groan louder. “Which one’s he again?”

“Your fiancé.” 

“Ew.” 

“I know you don’t like him, but you can’t keep skipping these dinners. Shouldn’t you at least get to know him before the wedding?” Harumi pulls the covers off Oikawa, ignoring his cries of protest. It takes a fine-tuned amount of patience, incentive, and nagging to get Oikawa out of bed in the morning. Or afternoon, rather. 

“It’s not like eating dinner with him once a week is going to change the fact that it’s an arranged marriage. And that he’s annoying.” Oikawa opens his eyes enough to look at Harumi. 

“Your parents like him.” 

“So? 

“Do I need to remind you of how fortunate you are, Oikawa Tooru?” Harumi says flatly, in the maternal voice she saves for when she’s lecturing him. “It’s a difficult world for omegas out there, but you’re lucky enough to come from a wealthy family with connections. Connections that have set you up with a nice alpha with money and a good family and more importantly, an interest in you.”

“Yes, I know, you’ve told me a million times-” Harumi raises an eyebrow and Oikawa knows better than to finish that thought. Instead he sighs a yawn, sitting up on his bed, rubbing fingers into bleary eyes. “I just wish I could have a say in whose bond mark is going to be branded on my neck for the rest of my life.” 

“Maybe if you didn’t have so much fun,” Harumi pinches Oikawa’s ear until he yelps, “your parents would trust you to make that decision. But instead you party on weeknights and do unspeakable things with alphas you don’t even know.” 

Oikawa turns an embarrassing shade of red. “Y-You know about that?” 

“You can’t hide anything from me, you know, I practically raised you. And no matter how much you try to hide it, I can smell alpha on you when you come home late, like last night.” Her tone is cruel but she smirks, turning to open the other window’s blinds. 

And she’s right. Harumi was around more than Oikawa’s parents were while he was growing up despite being hired as a gardener and not a nanny, even if she is an omega. She still is now, even though Oikawa is 24-years-old and wishes he didn’t have to live with his parents and attend omega classes during the week and stick to a fucking curfew (although he never does) and follow rules only teenagers should have.

He’s unbelievably fortunate, he knows that, Harumi raised him well enough that he knows how lucky he is, but sometimes he resents how high-status his family is. Especially when he’s the only omega. 

Being the only omega also means years of suitors and archaic courtships he was forced to deal with, all involving alphas from other rich families who were always horny more than anything else. Sometimes he wonders if his life would’ve been easier if he were born ugly rather than stupidly, unfairly, dazzlingly beautiful. Oh, well. 

He always rejected them, of course, but he learned early on that the best way to deal with hours of agonizing courting was to get something out of it for himself. Something like presents, makeup, jewelry, clothes, gems, sex. Mastering fluttering eyelashes, exposing his unmarked neck in the most sinful way, “accidentally” brushing a finger against his scent glands so that he _purred_ , once he figured out what made alphas lose their shit, it was easy to have fun with them. 

“You have just enough time to shower and do your makeup. I laid out an outfit for you, but I know you won’t wear it. Don’t be late.” Harumi says and shuts the door behind her. 

Oikawa stretches as he slips off his bed, smiling the smile that took months of practice to perfect (and that gets him into the most trouble). “You know me so well!” He sings. 

After a shower with water so hot anyone else wouldn’t have been able to stand it, he applies a full face of makeup because he knows his father hates it. His father particularly hates it when Oikawa wears blood-red lipstick. The omega makes sure to put on the brightest shade he can find. Where’s that dress his father told him he looked like a slut in? Ah, in the back of his closet. Oikawa slips on the burgundy dress, a dark red accentuated by glitter sprinkled throughout the fabric, hugging his body like linen does on Greek statues. He convinced the last alpha who courted him to buy it, since the clothes his parents approve are long-sleeved turtlenecks. This dress, however, is off-the-shoulder and exposes his collarbones, shoulder, and neck in their entirety. Oikawa can’t wait to smell the anger on his father at lunch. 

“Tooru.” His father says in a low voice as he walks into their dining room at precisely 2:10 PM (ten minutes late, just the way his father hates it). “What... are you wearing?” 

“Hm? A dress, obviously.” 

Oikawa plops down into a chair a couple of seats down from his father at the head of the table, plucking the cherry off his mocktail and swirling it against his tongue. He’s also practiced making big, innocent eyes which make him look like “such a precious little omega, so naive, like you’re just begging to be eaten up” according to an alpha who hit on him at a bar last month, but his father sees past it. His father always sees past him. 

“You better not be planning to wear that outside of this house.” His father says.

“Aw, why not, daddy?” 

“Because I said so.” 

“I think,” Oikawa looks right into his father’s eyes as he plops another cherry in his mouth, letting the juice dribble down his chin in a way alphas his age might get hard just looking at. “I’m going to wear whatever I want, whenever I want, because I’m an adult.” 

“You’re an omega.” 

“Yes, I’m an adult, and I’m an omega.” 

“You’re an adult, _but_ you’re an omega.” His father says. 

It’s a conversation they’ve had a thousand times before. 

“That shouldn’t matter.”

“I don’t care if you think it should or not, the fact of the matter is that it _does_. There’s nothing you can do to change that, Tooru, and by dressing like- like that-” 

“Like what, daddy?” Oikawa asks coldly. 

“You know like what.” 

“No, I don’t.” Oikawa stiffens. “Say it.” 

His father glares at him, clenches his jaw, exudes the scent of frustration. 

“Like an omega whore.” 

“Was that so hard to say?” Oikawa mocks, rolling his eyes and bringing his straw to his lips. Like that word could hurt him anymore. He’s heard them all. _Slut_ , _whore,_ _tramp,_ _skank,_ _cock-lover,_ _daddy’s boy_. It used to bother him, really bother him. He reclaimed those names a long time ago, though, when he was sick of pitying himself. If you can’t fight them, join them, right? “You know, you should take pride in having such a slut for a son.” 

“Tooru.” 

Oikawa freezes. _Shit._ He hates it when his father does this, when he uses _that_ voice. It’s unfair, really, that alphas have a register of their voice that any and all omegas who hear it can’t help but bow forward, tilt their neck slightly, submit without a choice. Oikawa’s father uses it way too fucking liberally, always when the omega is only trying to speak his mind. 

Oikawa’s used to it, though. Even if his father hadn’t used it on him since he was a child, plenty of alphas who were fed up with the omega’s teasing and just wanted to mount him already would use it. It wasn’t like Oikawa hadn’t consented or anything, but still… God, he hates alphas. 

“You cannot leave the house looking like that.” His father maintains his tone. 

All Oikawa can do is bow lower, bite his lip until it bleeds. A pitiful whine of compliance claws its way out of his throat, his body acting on its own accord at the will of the alpha. Another moment passes before Oikawa can move on his own again. He stumbles out of his chair when he can, making sure to leave it pulled out because he knows his father hates it when he doesn’t push it back in and storms upstairs to his bedroom with thudding steps. 

He curses to himself as he rubs the lipstick off his face, rips the dress of his body and throws it into the corner of his closet, rummages around for a more “suitable” outfit. Skinny jeans that accentuate his long legs and a flowy blouse that still exposes his neck is the most he can get away with. He reapplies his brows and eye makeup, hoping that enough glitter on his eyelids will piss his father off even without the lipstick. 

“Bye~” Oikawa shouts, and he really shouts, as he heads to the garage a little while later, but Harumi stops him as he’s slipping his shoes on.

“How bad was it?” She asks. 

“What do you mean?”

“Lunch. Your father’s been on edge for about an hour now.” 

Oikawa shrugs. “I don’t know what either of you expected.” 

Harumi shakes her head, sighing because she can't have a single conversation with Oikawa without sighing. 

“Where are you going? Dinner isn’t until 7.” She holds out his purse and a pair of keys, the one to the BMW. His father really must be pissed if he’s making Oikawa drive _that_ one. 

“I want some alone time before I have to see him. Driving around the city helps me calm down. Maybe I’ll go shopping, I don’t know. Flirt with some hot alphas.” Oikawa winks. 

Harumi sighs again, but it’s sympathetic, knowing. “Don’t get into any trouble.”

“Do I ever?” Oikawa feigns shock. 

Harumi reaches up to ruffle his hair, but stops when she remembers something. “Oh, your father meant to take the BMW to the car wash last week, do you think you could swing by before dinner?”

Oikawa scrunches his nose. “Must I?” 

“It would be a big help.” 

“I _guess_ I can squeeze it into my pressing schedule. Just barely, though.” Oikawa jokes. 

Harumi laughs softly. “You can go to that place on the other side of the city, the one with the bar.”

Oikawa nods. He knows the one she’s talking about, one of those fancy places for elites who can’t stand to wait the fifteen minutes it takes to wash their million dollar cars without doing something pretentious; state-of-the-art equipment to wash already clean cars on the outside and a full bar on the inside. It won’t hurt to grab something before seeing Ushijima, Oikawa decides. 

“I’ll see you later then.” Oikawa takes the keys from her, swinging them around his finger, but Harumi stops him again. 

“Keys, wallet, phone?” 

“Check.”

“Birth control?”

“Took my pill this morning. Emergency meds in my purse.” He pats his bag, the one his mother gave him for this twenty-fourth birthday. 

“Scent patches?”

“You know I never wear those.”

“Your father would kill you if he knew.” 

“Let him try.” Oikawa grins. 

“Love you, Tooru.”

“Love you, too!” 

Harumi closes the door and the garage behind him as Oikawa pulls out in the car his father gave him a couple years ago, even though his father knows how much he hates cars that scream money. Oikawa almost hits a trash can, but it’s fine, and he may have scraped the mailbox turning out of the driveway, but it’s not noticeable or anything. The stereotype about omegas being bad drivers most definitely applies to Oikawa Tooru. 

He heads towards the city, trying to remember where exactly this car washing place is as he sings his heart out to the radio with all of his windows down. 

And that’s when he sees him. 

A boy around his age with dark hair and muscles that Oikawa can see easily from the street, muscles that ooze _alpha_. And he’s shirtless. It’s the middle of a Saturday afternoon, and this goddamn alpha has the _audacity_ to stand in a gas station parking lot shirtless. He’s definitely the type Oikawa loves to tease the most. 

It must be a sign from the Gods, really, because what are the chances that this shirtless alpha’s standing beneath a sign proclaiming a “quick and affordable car wash”? It’s destiny, Oikawa smirks to himself. He cuts the wheel all the way to the right, skidding across two (thankfully empty) lanes of traffic and into the parking lot. 

And, _God_ , Oikawa is glad he stopped. 

This alpha is so much better up close, with that build and attitude and those green eyes, a strong scent that Oikawa’s only encountered with a handful of alphas before, he’s everything Oikawa looks for in a plaything. He’s dreamy, appetizing, drool-worthy. From the looks of him alone, Oikawa would bet he’s got one hell of a knot. He licks his lips unconsciously, tasting cherry lip gloss. 

Iwaizumi keeps staring. All he can do is stare. 

“Are you boys the car washers?” The stranger asks, resting his chin against his hands balanced on the top of his car. His voice sounds like how he looks, if that makes sense. 

Iwaizumi doesn’t know what’s come over him, but he feels heat rising in his body at the sight of this stranger, this stupidly beautiful stranger, and he just hopes to God that this momentary lapse isn’t obvious in his scent. _Shit_ , he just… 

“That’s us.” Matsukawa replies before Iwaizumi can embarrass himself. 

“Ah, perfect, I definitely need a wash if that’s alright. How much?” 

“1,500 yen.” Matsukawa nods at the small sign on the gas station window. 

“Hmm…” The stranger tsks to himself. 

Iwaizumi snaps out of whatever trance he was in, and his eyes widen, stunned at how someone driving a BMW for god’s sakes could complain about a measly 1,500 yen-

“How about 20,000?” 

_Oh._

Matsukawa gives Iwaizumi a sideways glance, making a face that can only mean he is _very_ willing to accept twenty fucking thousand yen from the boy in the BMW, but Iwaizumi is frozen. Is that… Is that moral? Are there strings attached? There must be, right? Matsukawa steps forward with his token shrug on his shoulders, but Iwaizumi interrupts him before he can say anything they’ll regret.

“That’s a bit much, don’t you think?” Iwaizumi clears his throat again. “1,500 is fine.”

The stranger giggles behind his hand. “Even with the additional entertainment?” He gestures to Iwaizumi, more specifically to Iwaizumi’s bare torso. 

Matsukawa snorts, but he quickly tries to hide it with a cough seeing how rigid Iwaizumi becomes at his side, how his hands curl into tight fists and he sucks in a low breath. It takes a lot to make Iwaizumi’s temper flare up. And yet, this guy… 

“It’s complimentary.” Iwaizumi replies flatly. 

The stranger cocks his head, almost like he’s pouting. “No tips?” 

“Everyone pays the same rate. Sorry.” 

“But I’m not everyone.” 

And then he fucking _smiles_ , and it’s a smile so viciously charming, enveloping, _mesmerizing_ that Iwaizumi couldn’t dream it up if he tried. If the car doesn’t scream wealth, then his smile does, with pretty teeth and pretty eyes and pretty lips flashing as if his whole face was designed to accommodate this smile. He must be a fuckboy of sorts, Iwaizumi decides. 

And he pisses Iwaizumi off. 

“I think my coworker here and I are fine without it.” Iwaizumi feels Matsukawa visibly stiffen beside him, but he doesn’t care. “I’ll only take 1,500. I’m sure another car wash would gladly take your money, though. It’s your choice.” 

The stranger considers this for a moment, his smile fading but only slightly. He’s probably not used to being challenged like this, Iwaizumi thinks to himself, and there’s something strangely gratifying about being the one to make this rich boy tense up like this. Iwaizumi stands a little broader, crossing his arms. 

Their eyes stay locked on one another for a long moment, Iwaizumi and the stranger. Iwaizumi has a fleeting minute of panic as something about the man’s eyes feels like it’s piercing into him, into his chest in a weird way, and Iwaizumi starts to feel words bubbling at the base of his throat, starts to go back on everything he just told him, but then the stranger looks away. A chill threatens Iwaizumi’s spine. That was definitely a weird feeling. 

“1,500 it is.” The stranger pulls out a few pressed bills from the large purse hanging off his shoulder. A Chanel bag, of course. 

“Great. We’ll get started right away.” But Iwaizumi has to force himself not to choke on the last word as he gets close enough to the stranger that a sickly sweet smell pours into his lungs. _Omega_. He’s an omega. And Iwaizumi’s never smelled an omega this fucking good before. 

It takes a good deal of willpower for Iwaizumi to slip the money into his pocket, motion for an indignant Matsukawa to bring the water over, start to channel this uncomfortable excitement into scrubbing the car and keep his thoughts clear, decent. He almost wonders if the omega is expecting a heat soon, but it’s not even that. This is something else entirely, and Iwaizumi does not want to think about what that could be. Not with a pushy rich kid like this. 

The omega sits down in the chair Matsukawa had been in as they work, crossing his legs and putting his face in his hands again. Iwaizumi can feel him watching. It feels different than when the other woman was watching him, though. 

He really shouldn’t feel like this, but some alpha instinct is urging him to show off. So he does. Well, he shows off as best he can while washing a fucking car. Scrubbing hard enough that he feels his own arms flexing more than usual, taking little breaks to stretch while his back is facing the omega, breathing out a grunt as he lugs his bucket to the front of the car. 

Something like satisfaction swells in his chest when he risks a look over his shoulder and sees the omega with his lips slightly parted, eyes entranced and glazed over watching Iwaizumi’s movements. Wait, no. He shakes the thought away. 

They finish quicker than Iwaizumi would’ve liked but much too slowly nonetheless. The car didn’t need a cleaning to begin with in Iwaizumi’s opinion, although it certainly has an attractive shine to it that it didn’t have before now. He’s satisfied, and the omega seems to be, too. Not that Iwaizumi cares what this rich boy thinks. It’s probably daddy’s car, if Iwaizumi had to guess. Still…

“It was worth the 20,000, you know.” The omega says just loud enough for Iwaizumi to hear. Iwaizumi has to bite the inside of his cheek to avoid saying something snarky, but as the omega passes him to get back in his car, that fucking _smell_ overwhelms him too much to say anything if we wanted. It’s like magic, really. 

“Hey.” The omega calls out his window after turning the keys. “What’s your name?” He’s looking at Iwaizumi with that immobilizing smile playing on his lips. 

“Iwaizumi Hajime.” 

He’s not really sure why he tells him. 

“I’ll remember that.” The omega laughs, slipping on a pair of sunglasses that look more expensive than the car. He tilts his neck as he checks his hair in the mirror above the wheel, and Iwaizumi almost chokes on nothing when he realizes that he’s doing it on purpose, exposing the unmarked porcelain skin of his neck to Iwaizumi because he _wants_ Iwaizumi to see it. And before Iwaizumi can process what the fuck just happened, the sound of tires skidding reverbates off the gas station. The omega nearly gets into an accident as he speeds back onto the main road. 

“Holy shit.” Matsukawa says again. 

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi swallows. “Holy shit.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh hi! this is my very first slow-burn fic, i'm not exactly sure how long it will end up being, but i hope you'll stick with me for this story :) this first chapter took me 13 hours to write 😳 i hope you enjoyed it!! honestly my dream is for someone to make fanart of my fanfiction so m-maybe this will be the one 🥺💕 i love you SO much (yes, you!) and i cannot express how grateful i am for everyone who reads my work, i seriously love you to the moon ❤️  
> (also! comments make me really happy and help with my motivation :D) ~  
> [my tumblr](https://undercookeddaichi.tumblr.com/)!! ✨✨  
> [my instagram!!](https://instagram.com/leftoverbokuto?igshid=1jmbu8777iur)  
> [my ko-fi 🥺](https://ko-fi.com/undercookeddaichi)


	2. Chapter 2

A horn blares somewhere behind Oikawa as he digs around his purse, swerving into another lane by accident.

“ _Shit-_ Sorry! Fucking hell-” He tries to wave at them out the window but ends up letting go of the wheel altogether. He sucks in through his teeth, narrowly avoids a street sign. If his driving wasn’t already bad enough, it’s the worst when he’s angry. Furious. 

His fingers finally latch onto what he was looking for, his phone, and he fumbles with it as he pulls up his contacts. He fucking _dares_ a cop to pull him over, he couldn’t care less right now. Keeping an eye on the road (sort of), he finds the number he’s looking for and hits the little green call button. 

“Koushi, _thank God_ , I am fucking fuming right now!” He borderline yells the moment the call is answered, not giving Suga anytime to give a greeting or whatever the fuck. “You would not fucking believe this fucking _asshole_ I just-”

“Woah, woah, Tooru, slow down.” Sugawara’s voice fills the car as his phone connects to the Bluetooth. “First of all, are you driving right now?”

“Why- Yes, I am.” Oikawa grumbles. He knows where this is going.

“Oh my God, Tooru. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, I cannot believe you haven’t died yet. You are the shittiest driver, you know.” 

“Okay, and?” Oikawa sighs. “I’m being careful. This is important, I swear.” 

“Pull over first.” 

“Koushiii,” He whines, dropping his head back against the headrest. 

“I’m hanging up-”

“Alright, fine, fine! I’ll pull over, oh my God. You’re just like my mom sometimes.” 

“I can’t help it. Someone needs to keep you from doing stupid shit.”

“I take it back, that’s an insult to my mother.” 

But Oikawa complies, turning into the first parking lot he sees, regretting it as soon as he realizes it’s a fast-food place; this stupid BMW couldn’t possibly be more out of place. 

Oikawa pulls up the emergency break and tilts his seat back until he’s practically lying down. “Okay. I’m parked.”

“Really?”

“I’m- Do you want a fucking picture?” 

Suga tsks into the phone. “You need to take a deep breath.” 

Oikawa bites his tongue to suppress the sarcasm that wants to leap out of his throat. He makes a big show of inhaling through his nose, though, exhaling loud enough through his mouth that Suga must hear him. 

“Better?” Suga asks. 

“Yeah, sure, whatever. Can I tell you about this guy now?” 

“Let me get some wine first.” 

“Lucky. I wish I had wine.”

“You’re driving.” Suga reminds him. 

Oikawa huffs. “The law is meant to be broken.”

“Feel free to tell that to the nice police officer when you inevitably get a ticket.” 

“Maybe I will.” Oikawa makes a face even though Suga can’t see him. 

“Alrighty,” Suga makes a noise like he’s just sat down, probably all cozy on his couch with wine in hand. Oikawa wishes that were him. “Tell me everything.” 

“Okay, so,” Oikawa rubs his fingers into his forehead. “I had to go to the car-wash for my dad. First of all, ew. Second of all, he made me take the fucking BMW. Anyway, I was going to the upscale one on the other side of the city, but then I passed a gas station with a car-wash sign, and Koushi, you wouldn’t fucking believe it.”

“What?”

“Guess.”

“Sigh, you’re annoying as always.” Suga sounds like he’s smiling, though. “Hmm… I don’t know, they were offering free car-washes? What the hell am I even supposed to be guessing?”

“That’s a terrible guess, but I forgive you.” Oikawa says. “Okay, standing in front of that gas station, in broad daylight, where anyone and everyone could see… A fucking shirtless guy.”

“ _No_.” Suga gasps. 

“Yes! Oh my God, I told you that you wouldn’t believe it. Anyway, there he was, shirtless and looking very tasty, if I do say so myself, so obviously I pulled in to get my car washed. And get this, he was an _alpha_ , Koushi.”

“Well, duh.”

“God, he was such a snack. Really, really muscled in all the right places. So sexy. When I tell you I fantasized about his knot-”

“I can imagine.” Suga sighs on the other end. “Did you get his number?” 

“Well, no! I haven’t gotten to the important part yet. So there I was, so excited to tease this hot alpha and maybe get a fuck out of it this weekend or something, and then this _asshole_ completely shot me down.”

“What? No way.”

“I know.” Oikawa scoffs, gets a sour taste in his mouth just thinking about him. “I offered 20,000 for the wash even though it was only supposed to be 1,500 or whatever, and this guy told me he didn’t want it.”

“You’re joking.” Suga breathes. 

“I mean, who turns down 20,000 fucking yen? Especially when you’re working at a fucking car-wash? Usually my jaw-dropping beauty works well enough on its own, but money is my back-up. You throw a little cash in an alpha’s face, and then he feels like he owes you something.”

“I’m well aware.” 

“And get this,” Oikawa jerks up in his car, another round of fury coursing through his body. “He was interested. His scent was screaming how fuckable I looked. He was whipped, right off the bat, and he _still_ resisted me.” 

“Did he smell good?”

“Is that important right now? I mean, yes, he did, he smelled really fucking good and it took everything in me to hide that from him with my own scent, but- Regardless, can you believe this guy?”

“What’d you end up doing?” 

“I just gave him the fucking 1,500 and got my car washed. It’s so unfair,” Oikawa whines a little. “He looked so _good_ when he was working. Muscles like that should be illegal, especially in public. And then he was sweating and there was some water dripping down his chest… Ugh, fuck me.” 

“Oh, stop complaining. You’ll be over him in a day. Less than that. You always are.” 

“Yeah, I know…” Oikawa watches a couple girls leave the fast-food place sharing an ice cream cone. They’re bonded, if he had to guess. “I just… Is there something wrong with me? What if he actually thought I was super ugly or something? I’ve never had an alpha fucking _pretend_ like he wasn’t into me before, I mean-” 

“Okay, stop. You’re spiraling.” 

Oikawa squeezes his eyes shut, groans. “I know.” 

“We both know that you aren’t ugly. I think you know that better than anyone, actually.” Suga pauses, probably having a sip. “Have you stopped to consider that he’s dating someone? Or that he’s just generally interested in someone else? Just because you’re an unfaithful ho doesn’t mean that everyone else is.” 

“I am not unfaithful!” 

“Says the guy who fucks a new alpha every week even though he has a fiancé.” 

“Do _not_ bring up Ushijima right now.” 

Suga laughs, snorting a bit of wine from the way it sounds. 

“Speaking of, how’s _Sawamura_?” Oikawa grins. 

“You know,” Suga says with an excitement only teenage omegas should have. “Amazing. As usual. Although, I would never tell him that.”

“Since when did we become such devilish flirts, Koushi?” 

“SInce I let you become my best friend.”

They both laugh at that. 

It was the only thing Oikawa didn’t mind about being an omega growing up, the pretentious schools he enrolled in. Of course they were filled with snobby rich kids and cliques and an immoral amount of favoritism, but it was nice only being around omegas for a change. Every student, teacher, staff member down to the cafeteria workers, only omegas were allowed to work at the schools Oikawa’s parents forced him to go to. The normal hierarchy of alpha, beta, and omega didn’t exist on that campus, and Oikawa learned to be grateful for it. 

And then when Sugawara Koushi transferred to Oikawa’s high school their first year, it was a blessing in all senses of the word. For once, an omega from a wealthy family who had a personality. They may or may not have become friends over gossiping about every last one of their classmates at weekly sleepovers, but they’ve outgrown that petty behavior. Sort of. 

“When’s the wedding again?” Oikawa asks. 

“Why is this so hard for you to remember? It’s in January, right after the new year.” 

“You are the only person I know who would ever want a winter wedding.” 

“I like the cold.” Suga says nonchalantly. 

“Freak.”

“Whore.”

“Wow, I’ve never heard that one before.”

“Wanna know what Daichi did last night?” Suga changes the subject. 

“Oh my God, tell me.” 

“He made me purr.”

Oikawa gasps so violently that his entire car jolts a little. “ _No. Fucking. Way_.” 

“Mhm, I know.” Suga says, a smug tone to his voice. “I couldn’t believe it, either.” 

That was most definitely _not_ what Oikawa was expecting. Not after the omegas had made a pact to never let an alpha make them purr (it inflates their confidence too much, according to Oikawa). It was a stupid middle school agreement, complete with a pinky promise and a fit of giggles, but neither of them have broken it. Until now apparently. 

“What the fuck did he do? What happened? Spill, now.” 

“We were only making out, nothing special, he was sitting up against my bed’s headboard and I was straddling him, like always. One thing led to another and he was kissing down my neck, nipping at my glands a bit, but he always does that… But then he, well, he latched on. Really latched on, like he couldn’t get enough of it. And when I say it felt amazing, I mean it felt fucking _amazing_ , Tooru. He was working his fingers under my shirt, too, and exuding the most incredible smell, I almost felt like my heat would come early because of it. I couldn’t help myself. And, God,” Suga chuckles. “I _tried_.” 

“You’re just whipped.” Oikawa huffs.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re too soft with him now since you’re in love or whatever. I would’ve lasted.”

Suga scoffs. “I doubt that.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“I don’t know, is it?” 

They laugh again, and for the moment, that stupid alpha from the car-wash slips somewhere into the back of Oikawa’s mind. 

A familiar twinge of jealousy that stings him whenever they discuss Daichi surfaces, though, because unlike Oikawa, Suga’s parents were just fine when he brought home an alpha of his choosing. A modest alpha, with not much money to his name and certainly no upper-class family, who Suga met on a helicopter ride of all places. Oikawa almost didn’t believe him when Suga explained that Daichi’s a pilot for a helicopter touring company. Is that even a real thing? 

Then again, Suga’s one of three omega children in his family, not to mention his mother and grandfather are omegas, too, so they have more independence than Oikawa does. 

Suga and Daichi aren’t bonded yet, but they will be after the wedding. That’s how a lot of wealthy families with omega children are. No bonding until marriage. 

Oikawa runs an absent-minded hand along the smooth curve of his neck. 

“Hey, don’t you have dinner tonight?” Suga asks. 

“Fuck, right. I wish you hadn’t reminded me. Then I could lie and say I forgot.” Slumping back down, Oikawa checks the time on his phone. It’s nauseatingly close to 7 PM. “Maybe I still can…”

“No, no. You should go. It’ll only get more difficult if you keep blowing him off.” 

“Everyone thinks that. Except for me. And shouldn’t my opinion be the only one that matters here?”

“I know how hard this is, Tooru. I’m proud of you, though.”

“Proud of me for what?”

“For resisting. I don’t think a lot of omegas would keep pushing back against their parents like you do, continuously. And I think that’s a good thing.” 

“It’s not like it’s doing me any good, you know.”

“Still.” 

The call ends much sooner than Oikawa would like, with Suga giving him the equivalent of a pep talk and telling him to look a bit more ugly so that Ushijima might change his mind, and soon he’s pulling back onto the main road in this ridiculous, stupid, obnoxious BMW. 

It’s a thirty-five minute drive to the Ushijima estate. Thirty-five minutes ends up feeling like two. 

Oikawa prays that he can have a moment to collect his thoughts in the driveway before going inside, just one fucking minute, but as usual, God has other plans for him. He barely makes it halfway up the circular path before a hoard of attendants are outside his window motioning for him to stop. The drivers’ door is opened and he’s ushered from the car without enough time for a deep breath, the BMW’s keys being handed to some man who drives it out of sight, not that Oikawa cares where it ends up. 

All of them are omegas, Oikawa realizes as they guide him towards the main house, one woman holding his purse and another asking if he’s thirsty. He bites down the boiling anger rising in his throat. 

Omegas serving others. It’s the way everything fucking is. And Oikawa despises it. 

“Are you sure I can’t get you anything, Oikawa-san?” One of the omegas asks him, holding the front door open. He doesn’t have time to object as two attendees bend down to remove his heels, replace them with slippers once they’re inside. He’s been here a few times before, but… _Shit_ , this place is always bigger than he remembers. 

“I-I’m sure. Thank you. Really, thank you.” Oikawa smiles. 

The omega seems dissatisfied, but they lead him down a hallway with ceilings so high it should really be considered a corridor until they reach mahogany doors. He’s allowed inside and nearly laughs out loud when he realizes this is supposed to be a dining room. Are they unaware that there are enough seats around that grandiose table for it to be considered a cafeteria? Well, he can’t complain; the one in his home isn’t much better.

A woman tries to guide Oikawa to the table, but he’s done this before, knows the alpha and omega dinner etiquette better than anyone. It takes a lot of fussing and reassuring and smiling for the staff members to leave him alone in the dining room, but they do, and fucking _finally_ , Oikawa gets the alone time he craves. Inhale. Exhale. 

His deep breathing exercises don’t exactly work, though, because Ushijima’s scent hits him like a tsunami of _alpha_. His body reacts with a cough, a cough that racks his shoulders and rejects the way the alpha’s pheromones engorge his own scent glands, send chills down his spine and make his hairs stand on end, force his head down even though there isn’t an alpha present to begin with. 

He would never admit it to his father, but Oikawa desperately wishes he wore his scent patches. God forbid Ushijima mistakes his body’s primal reaction for reciprocation. 

“Oikawa-san.”

Speak of the devil.

Ushijima Wakatoshi is the textbook embodiment of what it means to be an alpha. Tall, muscular, with broad shoulders, piercing eyes, an overwhelming scent, voice deep enough for Oikawa to feel it in the pit of his stomach. Even if he wasn’t taller than the omega, Oikawa still thinks the alpha would tower over him. And if it couldn’t get any worse, Oikawa’s body fails him again as his muscles force him into a low bow. Platonic submission. 

“Please, sit down.” Ushijima says, and it’s the only thing that breaks the curse over Oikawa’s body. The omega stands swiftly, swallows, fixes his hair. He doesn’t wait for Ushjima to pull out his chair or whatever it is that alphas are supposed to do at dinner as he falls into the spot beside the head of the table, the spot for omegas. 

“I, um…” Ushijima clears his throat. “I have flowers for you.” 

But Oikawa ignores him, his hands greedily reaching for the bottle of red wine left out for them, filling his glass to the brim. That’s supposed to be a server’s job, but fuck it. He takes a sip. Another. And another. 

“They’re roses.” Ushijima goes on. “I picked them myself this morning. For you.” He takes his seat next to the omega and waves a hand, calling for one of his slaves (as Oikawa likes to put it). A vase bigger than Oikawa’s ever seen is placed in front of him moments later, voluptuous roses the color of a pink sunset blossoming from the stone. It’s a beautiful bouquet, anyone can see that. 

Oikawa just shrugs.

“I don’t like roses.” 

“Oh.” Ushijima shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “What- What flowers do you like?” As he asks, some omega comes and removes the vase from the table. Oikawa smirks at that.

“I like the Titan Arum. _Amorphophallus titanum._ ” 

“I don’t think I’ve heard of that flower before.” 

Oikawa looks up from his wine, stares Ushijima dead in the eyes. “It smells like rotting flesh.” 

That kills the conversation as quickly as it started, just as Oikawa hoped. 

Ushijima pours himself some wine after a few minutes of painful silence, although a considerable portion is gone thanks to Oikawa. It’s sort of nice watching the alpha unravel so wonderfully, Oikawa thinks to himself. Ushijima is clearly just as uncomfortable as the omega is, given all of his fidgeting, blushing, playing with the base of his glass, but he continues to exude calming pheromones to at least make Oikawa feel more at home. 

He’s a sweet guy all things considered. Ushijima was ecstatic when he and Oikawa’s parents arranged the engagement, but he’s not oblivious to how the omega feels about all of this. In fact, he’s been trying to get Oikawa to fall for him for a year now. 

Oikawa would probably be more open to the alpha’s courtship if he had any say in the matter. If only his parents cared about that. 

Dinner saves them, and there’s a tangible shift in the room as dishes are laid out, napkins unfolded, food scooped into bowls. Oikawa’s only on his fourth bite when Ushijima ruins everything by talking again, though, and the omega has to stop himself from asking him to shut up. 

“I meant to ask earlier, but why did you drive here yourself? I expected you to have a chaperone.” 

“What’s the point of having a license if I don’t use it?” Oikawa snorts. “Omegas aren’t helpless, you know. I don’t need a driver.” 

“I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t offend you by asking.” 

“It is what it is. I’m just sick of the stereotypes.” 

“I understand.” 

Another few minutes of silence pass, and Oikawa feels himself sinking into his seat, more relaxed than he expected to be, enjoying the food more than he should. He knows it’s the alpha pheromones, but right now, he doesn’t care. 

Of course Ushijima has to ruin the moment. Again. 

“Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?” 

Oikawa practically chokes.

“ _What_?” He manages to blurt, jerking his head up to look at Ushijima as if he’s speaking English. He might as well be with a question like that. 

Ushijima’s blush reddens. 

He clears his throat again. “I’m… just curious.” 

“I-I don’t think I’ve thought about it before. Was I supposed to?” Oikawa shakes his head, his mouth slightly open and eyes wide. Ushijima is always pulling shit like this. 

“No. Never mind.” 

They both take a bite. 

“Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say?” Ushijima asks. 

“ _What_?” The omega knits his eyebrows. “Why? What kind of question is that?” 

The alpha blinks at him. 

“It’s interesting.”

“Really?” Oikawa gives an incredulous laugh. “You want to get to know me, and that’s the question you ask?”

Ushijima hesitates, but then nods. 

“Um, okay, well… No? I don’t rehearse before calling someone.” 

Ushijima seems to consider that for a moment. 

“What does friendship mean to you?”

Oikawa might really suffocate if he asks another one. And then he notices something in Ushijima’s lap, a piece of paper being crumpled in the alpha’s grip beneath the table. What the… Oikawa lunges forward, grabbing whatever it is that Ushijima’s holding and scrunches back up in his seat before the alpha can try to take it back. 

“Wait-” Ushijima smells like panic and Oikawa can’t get enough of it. 

“What the fuck is this?” Oikawa giggles. He smoothes out the paper, a printout of some sorts, holding it away from himself, out of Ushijima’s reach. 

Oikawa squints at it. “Questions? Like ice-breakers?” It’s a list, 36 of them, questions that sound similar to what a therapist would ask. 

“Well, it’s-”

But then Oikawa’s eyes fall on the title. _The 36 Questions That Lead to Love._

Oikawa can’t stop the hysterical laughter that erupts from him if he tries. It’s rude, he’s being rude, Oikawa knows that, but how can he not laugh? To think that Ushjima would resort to something like this… 

“Oikawa, it’s not what you think.”

The omega falls into his hands, tears peeking through his eyelashes. “R-Really? And w-why’s that?” He manages to say before uncontrollable giggles come over him again. Someone hurries into the dining room, probably concerned that Oikawa’s screaming rather than having the time of his life, but Ushijima quickly waves them away. That only makes Oikawa laugh harder. He can’t wait to tell Suga about this. 

“Oikawa.” Ushijima’s voice cuts straight through the omega’s chest, bringing his laughter to a halt. He’s not using _that_ voice, but the alpha’s scent changed. He might as well be speaking in that register with the way his pheromones coax Oikawa’s body into submitting

“I’m sorry. I don’t like to… manipulate omegas.” Ushijima puts his hand against his forehead. “But please let me explain.”

Oikawa bites his lip. “It’s not like I have a choice.” 

“Right… Well, I’m not oblivious to this marriage. I know you don’t feel the same way about me as I do about you. I don’t want you to be miserable, Oikawa, I really don’t. Please know that.” Ushijima clears his throat. “And when I, uh, well I found this article,” he coughs a bit, moves his napkin around, “with a list of questions that, apparently, help someone fall in love, I figured it wouldn’t hurt.” 

It almost hurts how badly Oikawa wants to laugh, but he still can’t with the alpha’s scent forcing him to remain still and quiet. It’s so ridiculous, all of this, even if Ushijima’s expression is the epitome of seriousness. 

“Don’t I have to be asking you the questions in order for it to actually work, too?” Oikawa asks. 

Ushijima swallows. “We were getting to that part.” 

“Listen,” Oikawa rests his chin in his palm, looking up at the alpha with raised eyebrows. “I appreciate you trying. Okay? But I will never love you the way you want me to, even if we’re married for fifty years. For the rest of our shitty lives. I need you to understand that.” 

Ushijima nods. His scent retreats enough for Oikawa to relax, release the laughs he had been holding, sigh and take a sip of wine. The omega almost feels bad with how dejected Ushijima looks now, with the way he’s staring down at his napkin. A new smell makes Oikawa’s nose twitch. Something like sadness. 

“I should really be getting home now.” Oikawa stands up. He’s only been there for thirty minutes, if even that, but he doesn’t think he could last much longer. Not after all of this. 

“Oh. Alright. I’ll… See you to the door.” 

Oikawa would prefer that someone else do that, but he doesn’t complain. It’s the least he can do for the alpha. He lets Ushijima bring him his shoes and kiss his hand and all that nonsense, too, but he’s more than relieved when he gives the alpha a final bow and heads towards his car (already waiting for him with an attendant holding his purse). 

“It was nice to see you, Oikawa.” Ushijima calls out. _Yeah, right._ He waves, looking too much like a puppy for Oikawa’s taste. 

Oikawa’s foot drops on the accelerator the moment he’s situated in his car, not bothering to give more than a wave back as he focuses on getting as far away from the Ushijima estate as possible. How do his parents expect him to share a bed with that man again? Oikawa rolls all of his windows down, lets out a groan that sounds more like a scream, but it’s drowned out by his engine and the roar of wind rushing into the car. 

Managing to stay in his lane this time, Oikawa reaches for his phone, relief flooding him when Suga answers on the second ring. “Calling again so soon?” 

“Do I have the story for you, bitch.” Oikawa can hardly contain himself. “So, basically-”

But Oikawa freezes.

It’s faint, like a whisper more than anything, but it’s there. An unfamiliar smell. 

It’s strong, and it’s good. Really fucking good. Coming from his car? Oikawa takes a deep breath, can’t help the happy noise in his throat at the scent. Citrus? No… Lemongrass.

Oh. 

The car-wash. That shirtless alpha. The memory nearly sends Oikawa and his BMW into a ditch, attacking his senses with all sorts of feelings he doesn’t recognize coursing through him down to his fingertips. It’s suddenly hard to breathe. 

What was that name? 

Iwaizumi.

“Tooru?” 

There’s… There’s no way he should still be able to pick up on his pheromones. He was outside of the car, for God’s sakes, drenched in water and soap to begin with. Unless… 

“Tooru, can you hear me?” 

Oikawa decides he must be fucking possessed because he has no rational explanation as to why he veers left, slams his foot down on the acceleration as his body is controlled by that scent. A scent that should have faded a long time ago. 

“Koushi, I’m so sorry, I’ll call you later, promise.” 

“Oh- alright. That’s fine. Talk soon, okay?”

Oikawa says the same and ends the call.

The gas station is dark aside from dim lights over the self-service pumps. What kind of gas station closes before 10 PM? Oikawa ignores that, though, and he drives up to the window, to the sign with “car wash” written in bold lettering. _“Saturdays and Wednesdays. Noon to 5 PM.”_

“Wednesdays.” Oikawa murmurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls dont ask why daichi is a helicopter pilot, i just think its so ridiculous but also fitting?? me being unable to write any fanfiction that doesn't involve daisuga :,) ALSO WRITING SOFT BABY USHIJIMA IS MY NEW KINK I LOVE HIM 🥺💞 ngl this chapter was hard to write, the words didn't flow so easily but i hope it was still enjoyable to read ^^ ilysm and sending you love and positive vibes 💖✨💕please comment and lmk what you think ! P.S. suga says “nice police officer” but he’s being sarcastic, no haikyuu boy condones the police and neither does this author ❤️ xoxo  
> (the article ushijima is talking about is from the [NY Times](https://www.nytimes.com/2015/01/09/style/no-37-big-wedding-or-small.html) haha my sister gave me that idea)


	3. Chapter 3

Iwaizumi’s alarm doesn’t go off particularly early, but it sure feels like it with this dull ache behind his eyelids. He makes a mental note to never let Matsukawa take him out drinking on a weeknight again. What happened to the sober karaoke session they had planned? But Iwaizumi should’ve known, given Matsukawa’s track record of making bad ideas seem like really good ones, especially when he starts spouting shit about “ _you only live once_.” And now there’s a sour taste in his mouth, too, and he groans because did he really- 

Iwaizumi jerks up in bed. 

“ _Fuck."_

He fumbles with his sheets, rushing out of his bedroom in only his boxers and scrambling to remember any and all prayers that could possibly save him if he’s right. 

The bathroom door is open, light falling ominously into the dim hallway. A few spray bottles and a plastic trash bin are lined in the doorway. 

Iwaizumi’s heart drops somewhere into his stomach. 

He takes a few deep breaths, trying to get himself under control before it leaks out in his pheromones as he approaches the bathroom. His hands curl into fists at his sides out of pure anxiety. 

“I am,” Iwaizumi clears his throat. “ _So_ sorry.”

Sakusa doesn’t look up at him, his attention consumed by their toilet and the bristled scrub brush in his grip.

But he abruptly stops scrubbing. “You could have at least aimed better.” 

His flat tone doesn’t match how tense his shoulders are. 

Iwaizumi swallows. “W-What?” 

“It got on the floor.” Sakusa sounds like he might throw up, too, like the words themselves are revolting in his mouth. “I’ve been up since 5 cleaning.” 

“Sakusa, I’m so sorry. I don’t even remember throwing up, I wasn’t planning on drinking last night. I’m- Is there anything- I can’t apologize enough.” Iwaizumi stutters. 

“It is what it is.” Sakusa says coldly. “Please just try to prevent this from happening again.”

“Right, of course. It won’t happen again.” 

Sakusa resumes grinding the sponge into the toilet. 

Iwaizumi nods, mostly to himself rather than Sakusa, and scans the assortment of products arranged on the bathroom floor. He counts four spray bottles of a half water/half bleach solution which can only be described as Sakusa’s trademark, seeing as he keeps one of those bottles in every room of their apartment. There’s another gallon of bleach, scentless floor cleaner, a couple packs of disinfectant wipes, three rolls of paper towels, and all sorts of brushes with different kinds of sponges and bristles and handles. 

Sakusa has on two pairs of disposable gloves, maybe more but Iwaizumi can’t really tell, and one of the white masks he wears during his daily cleanings covers his mouth. Although his daily cleanings don’t usually involve… this. 

“Who were you with?” Sakusa asks, less out of genuine curiosity but to ease his own anxiety. He gets anxious about those kinds of things, Iwaizumi learned quickly. 

“Matsukawa. From the car wash. And his boyfriend, Hanamaki. We were supposed to go to karaoke, but we ended up at a bar, instead. I got home around midnight, I think. Again, I don’t really remember.”

“That can be dangerous.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Iwaizumi sighs, scratches the back of his neck. “Matsukawa likes having a bit too much fun sometimes. 

Sakusa nods. He hasn’t looked up from cleaning and Iwaizumi doesn’t expect him to. “There’s ibuprofen and water for you in the kitchen.” He says.

“Oh, thanks. I appreciate it.” 

Iwaizumi stands in the doorway for a few more moments, not wanting to leave Sakusa to clean by himself, but also knowing any help he could offer wouldn’t be up to Sakusa’s standards. So he taps his fingers against the wall as he heads back to his bedroom, flops onto his bed and groans into his pillow to relieve some of the guilt starting to gnaw at his chest. 

But it’s almost 9:30 so he only has a little bit of time to internally curse himself before getting up to slip on jeans and a nice collared shirt. He makes his bed and straightens a couple books on his bedside table out of habit. A habit Sakusa sort of forced him to learn. 

How long have they been roommates for again? It’s been almost ten months now, if Iwaizumi remembers correctly, ten months since he responded to an online ad that had suspiciously perfect grammar and a bulleted list of requirements. Requirements like **_Must be neat_** **,** **_organized, quiet, and responsible_** _,_ and **_No gatherings of more than five people in the apartment at a time_**. Iwaizumi didn’t find anything wrong with that. 

And even though Sakusa made him use hand sanitizer the first time they met, grilled him with a thousand seemingly unrelated questions, asked for a list of references of all things, Iwaizumi respected his caution. 

They’re both grad students, too, since Sakusa attends a different university studying French literature, so it seemed like a good fit. It has been a good fit. 

As long as Iwaizumi remembers to put his dishes in the dishwasher, does his laundry three times a week minimum, makes his bed every morning, brushes his teeth twice a day, and most importantly, doesn’t try to clean anything. Or move any of Sakusa’s supplies. Or take a bath before Sakusa (he has to bathe first, or else Iwaizumi will make the shower dirty). 

Given his obsession with cleaning, Iwaizumi was surprised to find out Sakusa is an alpha, not an omega. But that was a nice surprise after spending most of his college years rooming with messy alphas who wouldn’t pick up a dish for the life of them. It’s not a territorial thing, either, like Iwaizumi feared at first; Sakusa is simply hygienic. Iwaizumi could get behind that. 

There’s only one inexplicable rule Sakusa is adamant about, maybe even more than the others: On absolutely no occasion should an omega enter their apartment. 

Iwaizumi hasn’t pressed him on it, but he doesn’t plan to. He doesn’t plan on bringing an omega to their apartment at any point, anyway. 

Ignoring a sarcastic good morning text from Matsukawa, he double checks that he has his phone, charger, wallet, and his change of clothes in his bag as he slings it over his shoulder. He heads to the kitchen, finds a glass of water and two little red pills laid on the (thoroughly disinfected) countertop. The gesture was nice enough in itself, but Iwaizumi knows Sakusa only did that so he wouldn’t stick his hands in the pill bottle. Iwaizumi sighs. 

He swallows the medicine down quickly, hoping to stop his headache before it gets any worse, and then Sakusa comes into the kitchen a moment later. It almost looks like he’s coming from a hospital ward or something given the shadows beneath his eyes and the garbage bag he’s clutching with rubber-gloved hands. 

“All clear?” Iwaizumi asks. 

Sakusa nods, placing the bag in the trash along with his gloves. “Remember to wash your hands.”

“Will do.” 

And Iwaizumi does, making sure to use enough soap to the point that it seems wasteful. Then he brushes his teeth, flosses, and washes his hands again. 

Sakusa’s hidden away in his bedroom when Iwaizumi announces he’s leaving, like he usually is, so he takes the elevator, grabs a coffee in the lobby, and starts the fifteen minute walk it takes to get to his university. He’s looking forward to the lab he’s doing today and dreading his shift at the car wash immediately following. It is Wednesday, after all.

And it doesn’t help that he’s hungover. 

His lab hours pass too quickly, though, way too fucking quickly, and soon he’s changing into work clothes in a public bathroom, walking the familiar route to the gas station, grimacing at the grin on Matsukawa’s face. 

“You must feel like shit.” 

“Well, I do. Thanks to you.” Iwaizumi slumps into one of those plastic chairs. It doesn’t break. Shit. “I mean, seriously, dude. How does karaoke turn into getting hammered on a fucking Tuesday night?” 

Matsukawa frowns like he doesn’t know what the alpha means. “The only one who got hammered was you.” 

“That’s because you didn’t have someone yelling at you, saying that you’re wasting your college years or whatever.” 

“You’re an adult. I’m not responsible for what you choose to do, or not do, on your weeknights.”

Iwaizumi presses his palms into his eyes. “Fuck you.” He’s only sort of joking. 

“You had fun.” Matsukawa shrugs.

“No, I really didn’t.”

“Well, Hanamaki did and that’s all that matters.”

Their conversation is cut short by a car pulling up beside them, though, parking in the place designated for washes, the engine falling silent. 

Iwaizumi and Matsukawa just stare. 

Déjà vu. 

A Mercedes-Benz. And it’s bright red. 

“You’re fucking kidding.” Matsukawa whispers. 

As if on cue, a man steps out of the driver’s door swinging the keys on his finger, draping himself over the top of the car with a smile that triggers a chill up Iwaizumi’s body. 

That omega, it’s that omega who came last Saturday. But he’s different today. There’s something different about him today even though Iwaizumi can’t pinpoint what. 

He can’t pinpoint what until the omega walks around the car towards him and Matsukawa, that smile on his lips making the alpha feel all sorts of ways he shouldn’t be feeling in public, until Iwaizumi sees what he’s wearing. 

Black heels tied up his ankles with ribbon, booty shorts the color of bubblegum so hiked up his hips that his ass spills out ( _is that lace underneath?_ ), a sheer blouse that might as well be the equivalent of air because it doesn’t hide any of his milk-white torso. There’s something black around his neck resembling one of those collars omegas sometimes wear, but it’s been repurposed into a choker of sorts. His face, his makeup- he looked pretty last time- but today, this time, with pink eyelids, pink cheeks, pink lips, glitter lining his lashes… 

Iwaizumi wonders what he would look like crying. 

“Do you like it?” The omega asks after a moment Iwaizumi didn’t realize had passed. “I was inspired by you, Iwaizumi-san.” 

That snaps the alpha out of whatever trance he was in. 

This omega...remembers his name. 

Iwaizumi swallows the thought down. He did tell him, it’s not unbelievable for him to have retained something as simple as a name. But...

“What does that mean?” Iwaizumi asks. 

“You were shirtless last time. Remember? And this is almost like I’m not wearing a shirt, isn’t it?” He giggles, gesturing to the sheer fabric. 

How the hell is Iwaizumi supposed to respond to that?

The omega goes on, though. “Anyway, this car of mine is dirty and I couldn’t help but think of you lovely boys. Think you can wash it for me?” He waves his hand in front of his face, letting out another laugh. “Don’t worry, I won’t try to tip you this time. 1,500 and nothing more.” 

“Your car isn’t dirty. It looks brand new.” 

The words leave Iwaizumi’s mouth before he can process what they are. 

“Shouldn’t you be grateful to have business~?” The omega retorts immediately, although his cutesy tone of voice and bubbling expression don’t match what he’s saying. 

“I just think,” Iwaizumi unconsciously stands a little straighter. “Washing a car that doesn’t need to be washed takes time away from people who actually need it.” 

The omega searches Iwaizumi’s face, that smile never leaving his lips, his eyes retaining something critical in the way they crinkle around the edges. 

“I see.”

And then, without looking away from the alpha, he drops down, painfully slow, his ass in the air as he scoops a handful of dirt. It’s more like mud, actually, since it rained yesterday. He tilts his head the slightest bit, enough for Iwaizumi to see the smooth skin where his scent glands are, as he stands, drags his hand over the side of his car. 

A streak of mud stains the red passenger’s door. 

He smirks. 

“Oops.” 

Matsukawa glances at Iwaizumi, stiffens under the visceral shift in the air around them, like he walked into an intimate moment that he wasn’t supposed to see. He coughs into his fist to alleviate some of this god awful silence. 

“Well, I mean-”

“1,500.” Iwaizumi cuts him off. “I’ll wash your car.” 

“Great.” The omega narrows his eyes, flashing that blasphemous smile again. Iwaizumi remains expressionless, cold, as he takes the omega’s money, ignoring the feeling of the omega’s finger dragging lightly against his own. 

“Uh, Iwaizumi,” Matsukawa clears his throat a little. He didn’t miss it when Iwaizumi said _I_ rather than _We_. 

The alpha gives him a sharp look as he lifts his bucket. “I’ve got this. Just sit back.” His eyes are almost black. 

“Gotcha.” 

“Oh? You sure you don’t want any help with that?” The omega pouts, cocking his head and leaning against the building. He pulls up his shorts just a bit higher. Iwaizumi notices. 

“Yeah. I’m sure.” Iwaizumi grabs his sponge, rings it out, and starts to press it against the drying mud.

But he stops. 

He doesn’t know what this omega wants. He doesn’t know this omega’s name. He doesn’t know why he has not one, but two million dollar cars, why he decided they needed to be washed at this shitty little gas station car wash. He’s rich, that much is obvious, and single judging by the lack of a bond mark or ring.

To Iwaizumi, he’s a spoiled stranger with too much privilege and time on his hands, enough time to show up dressed like _that_.

Iwaizumi hates how fucking hot he is. 

But two can play at whatever the fuck this game is.

So he drops the sponge back in the water, stretches his arms up, and ever so slowly pulls his t-shirt over his head. He makes sure to roll his shoulder blades, flex the muscles in his arms just enough that it’s not excessive but noticeable. 

There’s too much heat flooding his senses for him to really think about what he’s doing as he tosses his shirt aside, channels his strength through the sponge onto the car, milking every movement. A growl leaves his throat at one point, but there’s a sound like rushing water in his ears so he can’t be sure. 

The omega’s scent occasionally tickles his nose as he works, only consuming him more by this power rush in his veins, and as much as he hates who the smell belongs to, he’s almost intoxicated by it. He feels his own scent glands reacting to it.

 _That_ has never happened before. 

It takes him forty-five minutes to finish. As he dries his hands on his shorts, a blush finds his face, embarrassment finally finding his mind, because he went overboard, to say the least, and they are in public, after all. But he decides it’s worth it as he turns around to the omega’s raging pink cheeks. He struggles to keep his expression flat. 

The omega blinks out of it, though, brushing a few curls behind his ear and giving his keys a swirl. 

“All done?” 

“Yeah. All done.”

“Hm...I have to say,” the omega brings a finger to his bottom lip. “I’m a bit dissatisfied.”

Iwaizumi has to grind his teeth to keep his shit together. 

“Why’s that?” 

“It took too long.” He says simply.

_This fucking omega._

“You think so?”

He nods. “I’m a busy omega, you know. I don’t have time to wait around for alphas to show off. I hope you use your time more efficiently next time.” He sighs, giving an apathetic wave as he starts towards the door, but when he’s a foot or two in front of Iwaizumi, his keys fall onto the concrete.

“Oh, my bad. Let me get those.” He giggles. And right there, right in front of Iwaizumi’s burning eyes, he spreads his legs and bends down with his ass shamelessly up. Again. 

He arches his back as he stands back up, keys in hand, and- did he just wink? “Bye bye~!” The car jolts to life with a silent hum, and the omega is gone as quickly as he had come.

Iwaizumi squeezes his eyes shut. 

“So…” Matsukawa comes up behind him, placing a hesitant hand on the alpha’s shoulder. “You’re sure you don’t know that guy?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head. “Positive.” 

“Well, you’re clearly interested in each other, so why not ask him out when he comes back?” 

“What?” Iwaizumi spins around, shakes his head again, because in what universe would he be interested in that asshole? 

“Dude,” Matsukawa raises his eyebrows. “You couldn’t be more obvious if you tried. I mean, what was with the flexing and shit then? And you saw what he was wearing. That was clearly _for_ you. Plus, he couldn’t take his eyes off you while you were working. Don’t believe what he said, I’m sure he was disappointed when you finished.” The beta shrugs. “This is a great opportunity.”

“How- This is the opposite of a great opportunity. I don’t care if he was staring at me or whatever,” although the thought makes his chest feel a little warm, “and I sure as hell don’t want him dressing up for me.” Iwaizumi runs a rough hand through his hair. But then he stops, because something that Matsukawa said doesn’t sit right with him. “And what do you mean, _when he comes back_?”

“That’s what he said. ‘Next time.’ Didn’t you hear him?” 

Iwaizumi sighs but it’s more like a groan. “He better not.” 

“I guess we’ll just have to find out.”

“I’m not interested in him, though. Seriously. I want nothing to do with that guy. I-I don’t have time to be dating, not with grad school and work and shit.”

“Yeah, yeah, you keep saying that.”

“Because it’s fucking true.” 

“What does he smell like?” Matsukawa asks abruptly.

Iwaizumi furrows his eyebrows. “Like an omega. Why do you wanna know?”

“Was it a good smell?”

“I- I mean, I guess.” He doesn’t know where the question is coming from. “Yeah. He did. Really good, honestly.” but Iwaizumi regrets saying that as soon as the smirk appears on Matsukawa’s lips. 

“Interesting.” 

“Fuck off.” 

Their shift is slow after that, with probably fifteen to twenty cars rolling up over the next few hours until they clean up, wave goodbye, head their separate ways home. Iwaizumi tries to think of the lab he’s doing tomorrow as he picks up takeout on his way back to the apartment. He looks at posters and ads he passes more closely than he usually does, anything to get the image of that omega out of his head. He can’t figure out why he’s still thinking of him. 

Maybe it's because he knows Iwaizumi’s name. For some reason, that stands out more than his smile or clothes, or the way he smells, although that smell has been on his mind all afternoon, too. Something about his name. He keeps thinking of the way he said his name.

* * *

Iwaizumi dreads Saturday.

He specifically dreads Saturday at noon, so he downs a couple energy drinks on his way to the gas station. Not like it’ll do much good, but he figures he’ll need the rush, just in case...

He was right. 

He and Matsukawa are barely done setting up when the sound of tires spinning dangerously into the parking lot make Iwaizumi’s heart beat too fast. 

They hold their breaths as the car pulls up. It’s a black Audi this time. 

Iwaizumi squints at the doors, at the substance smeared across the windows. Is that…? There’s no way that’s whipped cream. 

“Hi~!” The omega sings as he steps out of the car, 1,500 yen already in his hand. “This one is in dire need of a cleaning, as you can see.”

Iwaizumi is careful not to let his eyes wander today, he learned that much from last time. But it’s definitely tempting when the omega is dressed in a crop-top, mini skirt, fishnet tights, flats, and Iwaizumi was right last time; those are lace panties underneath. 

But it’s sort of impossible for him to look away when the omega drags a finger along the side of his car, scooping up some of that white, popping it in his mouth. Yeah. Definitely whipped cream. 

Even Matsukawa goes a little rigid when the omega lets out a fucking _whine_. He parts his lips enough that his tongue, or rather his finger pressing onto his tongue is visible, and lets his eyes roll into the back of his head, all the while bringing his thighs together, leaning back against his car. 

As the omega pulls his finger out of his mouth, he blinks, looking all flustered like he’s not sure what in the world Iwaizumi is looking at, and of course he smiles. 

Iwaizumi refuses to give in to this omega and his shitty personality and shitty money and shitty cars. He doesn’t have time for this. That’s what he tells himself as he takes the omega’s money and starts rinsing off the whipped cream.

He and Matsukawa finish in 29 minutes (the alpha was keeping track). Then, the omega leaves. Just like that. 

The following Wednesday, however, it’s no surprise when a white Lamborghini (with a streak of pink spray paint across the back windshield) pulls up, and Iwaizumi’s fears about this becoming a habit effectively come true. 

Saturday, Wednesday, Saturday, Wednesday. Like clockwork, the omega pulls up in some fancy car ruined by something he did himself, whether it be with dirt or food or paint or otherwise, and flaunts a skimpy outfit as he manages to piss Iwaizumi off in every human way possible. And then he drives off. 

Iwaizumi doesn’t even know his name. 

He doesn’t learn his name until five car wash shifts later, when he’s scrubbing mud off a different BMW the omega drives, alone because Matsukawa’s visiting family. But it’s not like this is the first time he’s washed the omega’s car by himself before. 

It is a little bit tense, though, since they haven’t been alone before. Together. Not that it matters. Or makes Iwaizumi feel a little hot. Because it doesn’t. 

Another car pulls up behind the BMW and Iwaizumi puts his sponge down to tell the driver, an alpha in his forties maybe, that he’ll get to his car in a few minutes, and he can sit outside in the meantime. They usually don’t have lines at their car wash, especially on Saturdays, but Iwaizumi doesn’t mind. It just sucks since he doesn’t have Matsukawa to help out. 

“Hey, there.” 

Iwaizumi can’t help but overhear the alpha strike up a conversation with the omega. 

Something like anger swells in his chest if he’s honest, but he shakes the feeling away. It’s not like they’re anything close to friends, not even acquaintances.

It shouldn’t bother him. He won’t _let_ it bother him. 

“Hi.” 

The omega sounds a bit more timid than he does with Iwaizumi. Hm. That’s interesting. 

“Here to visit your mate?”

“That’s not my mate. I’m here to get my car washed.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“...You’re dressed awfully pretty to just be getting your car washed, don’t you think?”

Iwaizumi feels his breath catch in his throat. 

“No.” 

“Hm?”

“I think my outfit has nothing to do with the fact that I’m getting my car washed. And I think I can wear whatever the fuck I want, wherever the fuck I go.” 

“Woah, okay, calm down. I’m not complaining, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.” 

A growl leaves the other alpha’s throat, but he doesn’t press it. For a few minutes, at least.

“You drove here yourself, huh.” He says, sounding less friendly now.

“Obviously.”

“You know, omegas couldn’t drive when I was born. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

“If that’s the way it’s supposed to be, then I wouldn’t have my license, would I.” 

“That’s the problem with omegas these days, they don’t have any respect for their alphas anymore. You need to learn your place.” 

“Oh?” The omega’s voice suddenly takes on a new tone, an innocent one. The kind of voice that a lot of alphas eat up, alphas who think omegas should shut up and take dick and be bred. “And where’s my place?” 

“I think you know.”

“You do? But really, I don’t know! Won’t you please tell me?” 

Iwaizumi stands up, his hands shaking as he tries to desperately hold himself back from ripping out that alpha’s throat. Neither of them seem to notice, though. 

“On your goddamn knees. _Omega_.” 

And as if to demonstrate, the alpha starts to push the omega’s shoulders down, like he’s about to fucking mount him in broad daylight in a goddamn gas station parking lot, but before he can, before Iwaizumi can really start to rip this asshole to pieces, the omega’s fist hits skin. 

Iwaizumi freezes. 

“My name isn’t _omega_.” He rings his hand out, trying not to let how much that hurt show through his expression. “Oikawa Tooru. The same name that’s on my drivers’ license. I suggest you remember that.” 

His car isn’t clean yet, but Oikawa gets in and turns the ignition without a backwards glance, speeding off like he always does, leaving both alphas behind. The water bucket spills.

Oikawa Tooru.

Iwaizumi could laugh. There’s soapy water trickling down the parking lot, a man has a bloody nose and a string of curses pouring out of his mouth behind him, and Iwaizumi has to hold back from bursting into laughter. He covers his mouth with his hand. He’s gonna cry. He’s gonna cry because it hurts to hold himself back from laughing, because that was insane, but more than that, it was _fucking badass_. 

Oikawa Tooru. 

Iwaizumi doesn’t know why, but he really likes that name.

* * *

“I am officially done.” Oikawa announces into his phone the following Wednesday morning. He’s sitting in his garage, inside his mother’s silver Lexus, wearing a shirt that’s cut so it shows off his back (and he knows how much alphas love his back) and skinny jeans which do his ass many favors. 

“And why’s that?” Suga asks on the other end. 

“I have tried _everything_ , Koushi. Everything! I wore my favorite booty shorts, the pink ones we bought together, I slut-dropped in front of him not once, but _twice_ , I shook my ass in his face, _right in front of his face_ , Koushi! I licked whipped cream off my fucking car, for God’s sakes. What am I doing wrong?” He drapes an arm across his forehead. 

“And he really hasn’t made a move?” 

“Not once. I’m starting to feel pathetic.” 

“Why are you even wasting time on this alpha, then? You can have anyone else, Tooru. There must be a reason why he’s being so difficult. You should let it go.”

“Um, excuse me, Oikawa Tooru does not let things go.”

Suga sighs again. “I know. But I really think you should consider it.”

“Absolutely not. This is a matter of pride now. I won’t let this go until he makes a move.”

“And then what?”

“And then I turn him down, obviously!” 

“I should’ve guessed.”

“You’re right, you should have.” 

“But…” Suga starts, a bit hesitant. “Never mind.” 

Oikawa sits up. “No, what is it?” 

“Well, I’ve just been thinking…” He hums to himself. “You did say he smells really good, right? And that you could tell he was attracted to you because of his scent?”

“Yes, and?” 

“Tooru. Come on.”

Oikawa doesn’t like where this is going.

“That’s not what it is.” 

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“I do! I don’t believe in those things, anyway, you know that.”

“All I’m saying,” Suga goes on, “is if his smell is that strong to you, then he could be your true mate” 

Oikawa tsks. “What does that even mean again?” 

“That you’re perfectly compatible with each other. It’s all about the pheromones. He has to think you smell that good, too, of course, but I’m sure he does based on what you’ve told me. Just something to think about.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever you say, Koushi.”

“You’ll see.”

“And with that, it’s time for me to leave.”

“Try not to punch anyone this time.” 

“I was being harassed! Oh my God, that’s another thing entirely, don’t get me started.”

“Love you, Tooru.”

“Love you~!”

Oikawa’s hopeful about today since he had the amazing idea to bring a lollipop to suck on while Iwaizumi works. He was sure the whipped cream would do it, though… Fuck. He’s running out of seductive options. 

But when he gets there, only one boy is sitting at the car wash stand. The other one, Oikawa thinks his name is Matsukawa maybe..? His heart drops a little. 

The omega steps out of his car quickly, not bothering to swing his hips and tilt his neck and smile that smile that’s always supposed to work, because those are reserved for Iwaizumi and Iwaizumi only. He’s almost angry at the alpha. Is he avoiding the omega or something? That would be a first. The thought makes Oikawa want to cry for some reason. 

“He’s taking the day off.” Matsukawa says before Oikawa can ask. 

“Why?” Oikawa snaps, not really meaning to sound so aggressive.

Matsukawa shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Oikawa assumes that’s a lie. Then again, that is sort of private information. 

“Oh. Well. That’s fine.” The omega looks over at the melted wax on the hood of his car, a little unsure of what he should do, because… because he thinks they all know he never actually came for the car washes.

“Here.” Matsukawa pulls a washcloth from his pocket, dipping in some water before standing up. He wipes away the wax easily enough. “That should do it. I won’t charge you for it.” 

“Ah, um, thank you.”

“No problem.”

Oikawa stands there a moment longer. He never really prepared for a situation like this, for Iwaizumi to not be there. He’s not disappointed, that’s not it. Why should he be disappointed? Not one bit. He feels a little ridiculous in this shirt now, though, without an audience. He swallows, fidgets with his sleeve. 

Matsukawa startles him. “What’s your name?”

“Me? Oikawa Tooru.” 

“Oikawa. Will you do me a favor?”

The omega raises his head, his anxiety giving way to suspicion more than anything. “It depends.”

Matsukawa picks up a backpack leaning against his chair and digs around for a moment until he pulls out a notebook and a pen. He tears off a small piece of paper, scribbling before folding it up, handing it to the omega. 

“Just trust me on this.” Matsukawa says as Oikawa unfolds it. “You’ll be doing _him_ a favor, too.” 

There’s an address, and a time. **_Sunday, 3 PM_**. 

Oikawa knows better than to trust strangers who give him a time and a place. Plenty of horny alphas have tried the same thing, alphas who he knew better than Iwaizumi Hajime. He knows better. And yet, he nods at Matsukawa, slipping the paper safely into his purse, making a mental note to clear his schedule for Sunday at 3 PM. 

He knows better, but maybe he doesn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so excited to write more sakusa! (fair warning: there will be sakuatsu in the future...💞✨) will i ever get tired of writing oikawa dressed in slutty feminine clothes? absolutely not. but please let me know what you think !! thank you so much for your support 🥺🥺❤️knowing people are enjoying my writing brings me so much joy, i cant even express it ~! ilysssm :D💕  
> update:: LOOK AT THIS fanart [lizzydane15](https://lizzydane15.tumblr.com/post/630629174727606272/sassy-omega-oikawa-is-what-we-love-in-this) made !!!! go love them ^^


	4. Chapter 4

“Uh, hey, I’m outside. Where are you?” Iwaizumi looks both ways down the overcrowded street, phone pressed to his ear. 

“Aw, man, I was just about to call you.” Matsukawa says. “It’s Makki… He, uh, well, he must have eaten something bad. He’s been throwing up for about, thirty minutes now. I’m taking care of him, so I don’t think we’re gonna make it.” 

Iwaizumi’s heart drops. 

“Oh, shit. That’s awful.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, well, it is what it is.” 

“Okay, well, I guess, I mean I should give these tickets to someone else then.” Iwaizumi tries not to sound as disappointed as he feels.

“No!” Matsukawa blurts, with a level of near panic that makes something like suspicion buzz in the back of Iwaizumi’s mind. “You’ve been looking forward to this for a while. You should still go. Don’t let us stop you.”

“Yeah, but I thought the whole point of us going was because Hanamaki hasn’t been to a planetarium before. We can take a rain check-”

“Listen, don’t worry about that,” Matsukawa cuts him off. “We’ll definitely go together another time. But isn’t today the first day of the new show or whatever? You definitely shouldn’t miss that. Once in a lifetime opportunity.” 

Iwaizumi rubs the back of his head. “They just updated it to include a new star they discovered. It’s not a big deal.”

In his defense, it definitely wasn’t a big deal for anyone else. Only for him. He was looking forward to this, probably with more excitement than he should have. 

“Seriously. I would hate for you to miss it just because of us. Please. Go. Have fun.”

Iwaizumi takes a big breath, runs his hand over his pants. Before he can argue further, he notices the time on his phone screen. **2:49 PM**. If he doesn’t want to be late, he really should hurry. 

“Okay, fine. I’ll go.”

“That’s great. Tell me all about it later.” 

“Sure. Thanks, man, we’ll talk later. The show’s about to start.”

“Oh, okay. Have fun!” 

Iwaizumi’s dubious about how relieved Matsukawa sounds, almost like he’s overjoyed about the turn of events, but he really doesn’t have time to question it. Instead, he puts his phone on silent and heads into the building he knew so well as a child. 

Coming to the planetarium with his parents was always a treat for him growing up, not just because he’s loved space for as long as he can remember, but because sitting in that huge, black room, staring up at lights with sounds rushing in your ears, was the coolest thing. It still is, even though he hasn’t been in more than a few years. 

But then they added a new star that Iwaizumi’s been fascinated with since its discovery, and Matsukawa mentioned that Hanamaki’s been wanting to go to a planetarium with someone who’s good at “space shit,” so he had an excuse to come back. Even if the plan fell through, Iwaizumi still feels like a kid on Christmas morning. 

He hands over his ticket, careful to be quiet as he searches for his seat in the dark. It’s the farthest seat on the left in the front row. He’s happy to find the seats around it empty. Not many people must come to the planetarium on a summer Sunday at 3PM, he assumes.

A few minutes after he sits down, the sound of a woman’s voice fills the space as the narration begins, all sorts of lights flashing with different stars and planets and solar systems overhead. He’s almost surprised about how excited he feels. 

And twenty minutes later when the doors squeak open in the back, he’s too enthralled to hear it. He doesn’t hear the whispering from the back of the room, either, or the sound of clumsy footsteps and soft curses and shuffling getting closer to the front. In fact, he probably wouldn’t have noticed at all if it weren’t for the smell. 

“Found you!” 

Iwaizumi jerks up in his seat at that scent in his nose, the whisper that’s more like a shout from behind him. He can only make out the omega’s silhouette in the dark, but that smell is more than familiar. 

_No fucking way._

Iwaizumi looks around them, wondering if this omega is talking to someone else, or maybe he’s mistaken him for someone, but then he squeezes past Iwaizumi’s legs (making a show of it, of course) and plops down in the seat beside him. 

It has to be him. No other omega would willfully arch their back, flaunt their ass in front of an alpha at a fucking planetarium. 

What was that name? 

Oikawa.

“I haven’t been to one of these places in years.” Oikawa whispers to him.

He’s smelled Oikawa before. He’s been close to him before, while taking his money and passing each other once the omega’s car was clean. But that was outside with wind and flowing air and all kinds of other scents. 

If he thought it was strong before, Iwaizumi was deathly wrong, because this brew of flower blossoms, of cherry and pumpkin in his lungs, it feels like a slap in the face. 

The lights from the show become blurry, scattered, as he grips his arm rests until he can’t feel the blood in his fingertips. His scent glands feel sensitive and his teeth a little sharper, a mild but noticeable impulse to _bite_ tingling in his jaw. For a moment, he wonders if this omega is somehow triggering an early rut in him, but that’s not it. He doesn’t know what _this_ is, but it’s not his rut, thank god. 

“What-” Iwaizumi swallows. He tries to keep his voice low, but he sounds loud, anyway. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

“Rude. Who raised you to swear around omegas?” 

Iwaizumi tries to focus on a constellation above them. He’s studied it before, could point it out in the night sky. But its name is evading him right now. His head feels hazy. 

“I- What- _Are you stalking me or something_?” 

“Oh, so just because I’m also interested in outer space, I’m a stalker now.” 

Iwaizumi looks over his shoulder, bracing for someone to shush them or complain about how goddamn loud Oikawa’s voice sounds, but no one seems to be paying them any attention. It must be his senses on overdrive. Fuck. 

“I’m just- you- there’s no way- you were looking for me, like you knew I was here.” Iwaizumi seethes, struggling to regain his composure. 

“And?” Oikawa stares up the constellation. “I’m here to enjoy the show. So shush.” 

“You were the one making noise-” 

“Shh!” Oikawa looks back at the alpha, pressing his finger to his lips. His breath comes out hot, smelling like bubblegum. Iwaizumi swallows again.

He should leave. Iwaizumi can’t think of what else to do with this omega sitting beside him, an omega he doesn’t know, who makes his instincts act up like they never have before, who somehow knew Iwaizumi was going to be at the planetarium today, at this time, and decided to show up. 

But something about getting up and leaving doesn’t sit right with him. It feels like forfeiting. He was looking forward to this, after all, and he’ll be damned if he lets this omega ruin it for him. So he crosses his arms, sinking deeper into his seat, and expends the last of his self-control focusing on the stars above them. 

Ophiuchus. That’s the name of the constellation. 

Aside from his scent (Iwaizumi swears he’s tilting his neck like that on purpose), Oikawa doesn’t do anything to overtly distract the alpha. He even seems to be enjoying the show. At least Iwaizumi thinks he is. The omega doesn’t seem clueless, either, and he did say he’s been to one of these before, didn’t he? 

Iwaizumi’s almost surprised that Oikawa is so… well-behaved for someone so fucking pushy, spoiled, bratty as this omega has been around Iwaizumi. From the corner of his eye, he watches the reflection of planets against Oikawa’s face. 

When the narrator announces the new star that’s been discovered near the end of the presentation, Iwaizumi sits up a little straighter, the curve of a smile finding his lips. He beams at the accuracy, detail, his own pride in being able to understand it in ways others can’t. He forgets Oikawa is beside him. Just him and that star. 

Until Oikawa whispers, “God, you’re such a nerd.”

Iwaizumi blinks.

“What?”

“The look on your face. I guess it takes a star to bring this side of you out, hm.” Oikawa giggles. “Oh, but don’t worry. I’m the same way.”

“I like space.” Iwaizumi crosses his arms defensively, heat rising in his cheeks from anger, or maybe embarrassment. But no, he refuses to be embarrassed about what he likes, what he has a degree in. Especially not around this omega. “This specific star was discovered this year actually.” 

“Oh really?” Oikawa perks up. “Will you tell me about it?” 

Iwaizumi has a fleeting worry that Oikawa’s only doing this as some sort of flirting tactic or something like that, which he certainly wouldn’t put past the omega… Yet there’s only genuine interest in Oikawa’s voice. 

He actually wants to know. 

Something about that makes the alpha’s body temperature rise a little bit more. 

“Um, alright. Sure.” Iwaizumi rubs his knees with his hands. “Well, this specific star-”

But Oikawa flicks his shoulder, crinkling his nose. “Not now! The show isn’t over. Stop disrupting people.” 

Iwaizumi starts to point out, again, that Oikawa is the one doing most of the talking, instigating, and general disruption, but the omega gives him a look and presses his lips together. Fuck, he’s annoying as hell, but… maybe it’s just the pheremones, but something about him is adorable. 

Iwaizumi pretends he didn’t just think that.

The meaning of what Oikawa said hits him a moment later, though. 

_Not now._

As in later. 

Sure enough, as the show ends and the lights come back on, soft chatter sweeping the room, Oikawa remains seated beside the alpha, looking at him with expectant eyes. Iwaizumi isn’t sure what to do. He hardly understands what the fuck is going on to begin with, and this smell of cherry wafting from the omega’s neck isn’t helping. 

“Okay.” Iwaizumi turns in his seat to face him. “Why are you here?” 

Oikawa doesn’t miss a beat, letting his eyelashes flutter. “I like space, too.” 

“No, no, don’t act like this is a coincidence. How did you know I would be here?” 

The omega waves his hand. “Oh, you know, I have my ways-”

“Cut the bullshit. Just tell me.” 

The edges of Oikawa’s mouth twitch. It’s the second time Iwaizumi’s seen whatever promiscuous facade this is falter, the first being when he punched that alpha at the car wash. A chill runs up Iwaizumi’s spine.

“Take it up with your coworker.” Oikawa sighs, crossing his legs and staring up at the blank ceiling. His voice doesn’t sound so much like a song now. 

“You mean Matsukawa?”

“Yes. At least, I think that’s his name. From the car wash. A beta, if I had to guess?” 

“I can’t-” Iwaizumi drops his elbows onto his knees, his forehead wrinkling in his palms. “I’m gonna fucking _kill_ him, he really-” 

How many times has he told himself to be more cautious of Matsukawa’s excuses now? His boyfriend getting sick thirty minutes before the plans they made a month ago, big coincidence. He scoffs, angry with himself more than anything. 

“What did he tell you?” He finally asks.

Oikawa pulls his purse into his lap, the Chanel one that Iwaizumi recognizes, and digs around until he pulls out a slip of paper. “He gave me this while you weren’t there Wednesday.” 

The address of the planetarium. Sunday. 3PM. 

“I must say,” Oikawa takes out some lip gloss from his purse. “The staff at this place was unnecessarily problematic. I mean, sure, I got here a few minutes late, but still, they tried to tell me they couldn’t give me a ticket. I had to pay a woman out there 10,000 just to get in.” 

Iwaizumi’s only half paying attention. He’s lost in his mind plotting his revenge on Matsukawa because he will _not_ let him get away with his, but he looks up as Oikawa starts ranting about how money’s losing its social value or something. Of course this omega could wave around 10,000 yen like it’s dirt. 

“Okay, well,” Iwaizumi stops him as he stands up. “I’m sorry that you wasted your time today, and money, apparently. I don’t know why Matsukawa thought it was a good idea for you to come. Well, I do know, but still. Hope you have a good rest of your day.” 

He hurries out of the aisle with his hands in his jeans, focused on getting as far away from this omega and his pheromones as he can. But he shouldn’t be surprised when he feels a hand grip his arm. 

“You’re leaving me?” 

The melody in Oikawa’s voice is back. He tilts his head at Iwaizumi, the most pitiful expression draped across his face, as if his goal is to look as naive, as forlorn as omegas in movies and porn do. 

And now that they’re standing, Iwaizumi takes in Oikawa’s outfit under dim light. It’s not as overtly desperate for attention as the omega’s other clothes have been, but Iwaizumi can feel his pupils dilating nevertheless. Skinny jeans, loafers, an off-white blouse that accentuates Oikawa’s curves, but sleeves that flow loosely off his shoulders. Casual yet elegant. His makeup is softer than usual, too, with just mascara, a hint of blush, pink on his lips joining his natural beauty. 

“I thought you said you would tell me about that star.” He blinks at the alpha, and then he steps closer, close enough that when he moves his head just right, that fucking scent pours into Iwaizumi’s senses. 

“Um,” Iwaizumi tries to blink this feeling away. “I… I really should get going.” 

“Really?” 

“I have plans.” Iwaizumi can’t think of any plans he has, but he sure as hell would rather do anything than hang out here any longer. He doesn’t even _know_ him, for fuck’s sakes. 

“Like what?”

“Does it matter?”

Oikawa’s innocence slips. “I’m sure you can make time for a coffee.”

“Wait, hold on,” Iwaizumi pulls out of Oikawa’s grip. “Coffee? What are you talking about?”

“What’s the problem?”

“I thought you wanted me to tell you about stars?”

“I do. And we can get a coffee while we’re at it.” 

Iwaizumi puts up a hand. He was clearly too drunk off this omega’s pheromones to see clearly. “Alright, I’m leaving.” 

He gets to the lobby of the building, before Oikawa catches up to him again, with his flirtatious edge back to him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed that you’re a coffee person.” 

Iwaizumi glances over his shoulder at the omega. 

“I love coffee. Black Americano.” 

Then he lets the doors fall shut behind him, leaving Oikawa standing with wide eyes. Alone. 

To say the omega is furious is a gross understatement. 

With Iwaizumi out of sight, Oikawa doesn’t try to stop his expression from falling into a scowl, a frustrated whine teasing the back of his throat. He’s dangerously close to a tantrum. 

This ugly combination of anger and imperfection making his vision red wages a civil war behind his eyes, one part of him wanting nothing more than to run after the alpha and beg to get that coffee, the other being too prideful to do anything other than leave and never think his stupid name ever again. His pride usually wins. 

But as Oikawa pents up his rage to release later, when his blood is full of alcohol and arm linked around Suga’s, someone taps his shoulder. 

“ _What_?” Oikawa snaps, whipping around but faltering when it’s a woman with frightened eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Her face is bright red, evidently an omega like Oikawa. “I didn’t mean to startle you. But, I think your friend left this.” 

Oikawa rolls his eyes, “I wouldn’t call him my-” but he freezes, his gaze resting on the cellphone in her extended hand. A spark fires somewhere in his mind. “Would you look at that! He’s so forgetful sometimes, I really appreciate this. Thank you so, so much. I’ll give it to him as soon as I can.” 

She doesn’t seem to question him, mainly due to the fact that Oikawa’s perfected his lies for years upon years to the point that rarely anyone questions him, and he gives her a slight bow as she leaves. 

His heartbeat is loud in his ears when he looks down at the screen. 

It unlocks right away. No password. 

Oikawa can’t help his smile, the satisfied sigh that escapes him. 

_Perfect_.

* * *

“ _Shit_.” Iwaizumi checks all of his pockets again, but his phone isn’t on him. 

At least he realized before getting on the train, but it’s still a pain in the ass having to go back to the planetarium. Especially after the afternoon he just had. The thought alone makes him rub his fingers into his eyes, suppressing a groan. 

Seriously, who the fuck is that omega? And more importantly, what did Matsukawa tell him? Why would that ever be a good idea? He’s only known the beta for a few months, but he never would have assumed he would do something like _this_. It might not be Matsukawa’s fault though, given how pushy that omega can be. 

Iwaizumi can’t figure out what his motive is. The outfits, the smiles, the goddamn whipped cream. He’s flirting, he has to be. Right?

Not that Iwaizumi would ever even _consider_ courting an omega that obnoxiously rich and entitled. His arrogance is a major turn-off. Yeah, it is. 

Right?

Luckily they haven’t started cleaning by the time he gets there and there’s no sign of Oikawa, either, so he hurries to the front row where his seat was. His phone is on the ground. It must have slipped out of his pocket. 

He checks his texts as he leaves, answering one from Sakusa about rent and opening a picture his mom sent him, saving it to his phone. He opens his photos, but then he stops walking in the middle of the sidewalk. 

What the fuck. 

Right there in his camera roll, Oikawa, winking and blowing a kiss at the camera. A selfie. 

Iwaizumu’s fingers shake as he clicks on the image, his eyes landing on the date and time the picture was taken. Fifteen minutes ago. 

It takes someone bumping into him to rip his attention away from his screen. He mutters an apology that he barely hears himself and stumbles out of the way, leaning against the nearest building. He’s opening every app on his phone before he can think about it, scouring for any other signs of the omega on his phone. _His phone._

Aside from the picture, Oikawa didn’t seem to do anything else, though, That is, until Iwaizumi opens his contacts on a whim. He can’t believe it. 

**_oikawa~_ ** **😘**

He put his fucking phone number in Iwaizumi’s phone. His phone number. 

But even though he instantly clicks on it, hovers his fingertip over the “delete” button... He can’t bring himself to do it. All he can do is stare at those numbers. 

He doesn’t know how long he stands on the sidewalk, staring at those numbers.

* * *

“Where are you right now?”

“I’m working on my essay, the one about abnormal ruts. I assume you haven’t started it.” 

“No one actually does those!” Oikawa shoves his phone against his ear, swirling his straw in his iced coffee despite the fact that he’s in his car. Behind the wheel. Driving. “We’re in our twenties, Koushi, and you actually _still_ put work into our fucking omega lessons. I think if anyone has an issue here, it’s you.” 

“Someone’s unnecessarily feisty today.” Suga replies. Oikawa can imagine the look on his face, eyebrows raised and lips pursed. “That’s not good. Especially while you’re driving.”

“I’m not driv- Please don’t make me pullover.”

“You’re on thin ice.”

“Please! This really is important.” 

Even though Oikawa says that every time, Suga sighs. “Fine. Why’d you call?”

“Because I wanted to check that you’re home. You are, right?” 

“Yeah, I am. Everything okay?”

“No, everything is definitely not okay. Get your ass out here.” 

“What?” 

As Oikawa pulls up to the house ( _mansion_ is a more accurate term), he sees the flutter of curtains and then Suga’s face in an upstairs window. Suga groans into the phone, but Oikawa can see his smile, even from down in the driveway. 

“Please?” Oikawa whines.

“I haven’t finished my essay…”

“Okay, and?”

“It’s sort of late already, too.”

“Not even! It’s only 8.” 

“God, you’re annoying as fuck sometimes, Tooru.” Suga croons, leaving his window and letting his curtains fall closed behind him. “You know I can never resist a club night.” Then he lets out a giggle, a jittery laugh that makes Oikawa giggle, too, and after a moment, the two of them sound like they’re back in high school with the way they’re squealing over the phone. 

“Yay! Oh my God, I cannot _begin_ to tell you how much I need this tonight.” Oikawa claps, taking a long sip of his coffee. 

“Give me fifteen. I have to do my makeup.” 

“Perfect. Make sure you look hot, bitch!” 

“I am engaged, you know.” Suga says, but they both just giggle some more until Suga hangs up to finish getting ready. 

It takes him thirty minutes rather than fifteen, but Oikawa expected that since Suga usually underestimates how long it takes him to pick out an outfit, but it’s worth it, given the way the other omega looks. Oikawa might be jealous, if he weren’t so confident in his own beauty. 

“Oh? Keeping it classy tonight?” Oikawa purrs as Suga slides into the passenger’s seat. 

“I got these pants last weekend. Don’t you love them?” He runs the black fabric between his fingers, thick fabric that still manages to be lightweight and flow down his legs, cutting off well above his ankles. His shirt is equally airy, white and loose with the top three buttons undone. With his grey hair parted like it is, gentle makeup blossoming from his face, he’s a personification of the word _handsome._

“I pity everyone who doesn’t have a best friend as dreamy as I, Oikawa Tooru.” He shakes his head, speeding back onto the main road towards the city. 

Suga punches his arm teasingly, although it’s a bit rough for a tease, rough enough that Oikawa winces at the pain. “What brought this on, though?”

Oikawa just reaches for his coffee, rolls his eyes. That’s all Suga needs to understand.

“Ah. That alpha again.” Suga tsks. “What did I tell you, he must be your true mate-”

“Don’t even fucking start. I swear he’s the opposite of a true mate, like a true enemy or something, I don’t know. Honest to god, I have never, and I mean _never,_ been so infuriated by an alpha in my whole life. My whole life, Koushi.”

“Did you end up going to the planetarium? That was the address his coworker gave you, wasn’t it?” 

“Well, duh. Obviously I went.”

“I told you not to.” 

“You tell me to not do a lot of things, and it hasn’t been a problem before!” 

“Tooru. Every time you ignore my advice, something bad happens.”

“This was different.”

Suga gives him a look as he reaches for Oikawa’s coffee, shaking the cup a little before taking a sip. 

“Okay, well, it’s too late. Anyway,” Someone behind them honks as Oikawa changes lanes. “He was a dick. So rude. He couldn’t even make time for coffee.”

“Wait, you asked him out to get coffee?” 

“No! It wasn’t like that, it was casual. But he blew me off and left me there. I mean- clearly there’s something wrong with him! What alpha just leaves an omega alone in public like that? Alphas don’t even give me room to fucking breathe, let alone fucking _abandon_ me-”

“Do you want my advice?”

Suga’s voice is hard. The car abruptly falls silent, aside from the faded hum of the engine and tires on concrete. 

“...Of course I do.” Oikawa murmurs.

“Ask him out.” 

The moment the words leave his mouth, Oikawa’s mouth flies open with some complaint or object or made-up excuse, but Suga continues, shutting him up before he can start. “Ask him out, or never see him, or talk about him, or think about him again. From where I am, those are your only options. Otherwise he’s going to keep pissing you off and making you feel bad about yourself.” Oikawa begins to say something again, and again, Suga shushes him. “And I know you’re going to say that you don’t ask alphas out, because you think that’s beneath you. So you’re really only left with one option. Fuck him.” 

“...I just-”

“You what? Hm?” Suga crosses his legs, and Oikawa can feel his glare searing his cheek. “What’s even your goal here?”

“To make him want to fuck me.” Oikawa blurts. 

“And what if he never does?” 

That silence returns to the car again. 

Oikawa never considered that before. An alpha not wanting him. It’s a foreign idea, one that makes his head spin trying to comprehend. Is that… Could that be possible? Oikawa Tooru, the omega that alphas swarm, that alphas are desperate for to the point of incoherence, Oikawa Tooru, who has the will of anyone and everyone wrapped around his finger with the right outfit, the right amount of money. But this time… an alpha who doesn’t care? 

“I don’t know.” Oikawa says.

“Tooru, are you ugly?” 

The question startles him. “What? No.” 

“Are you boring?” Suga asks. 

“No..?” 

“Are you hot?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Are you beautiful?”

Oikawa blushes, still unsure of what Suga’s trying to say. “Obviously.” 

“Are you gorgeous?” 

“Of course.” 

“Does any of that change just because one alpha isn’t interested?”

Oh. That’s what Suga’s trying to say. But Oikawa doesn’t mind, and he’s even enjoying the feeling of his pride inflating in his chest, unaware of how weak it had become over the last few hours. 

“Fuck no.”

“Exactly.” Suga smiles, a smug look teasing his face. 

And by the time they reach the club, after Suga and Oikawa trade places so he can parallel park, they’re both laughing over some dumb joke like they’re already drunk before entering the building. 

It’s surprisingly busy for a Sunday evening. A healthy crowd is gathered on the floor as they walk in, but it won’t really come alive until after midnight. 

Oikawa goes to the bar right away while the other omega scopes out their usual seats, getting himself a martini and Suga a margarita to start with. He meanders through scattered people and pheromones until he finds Suga sitting at a hightop tucked towards the back. 

The atmosphere is doing wonders for his mood. Beneath music that makes Oikawa’s ears ring, Iwaizumi already feels like an obscure memory. 

Fuck Iwaizumi.

“Feeling better?” Suga asks, licking a bit of the salt along the rim of his cup. 

“I am, thanks to you. I can’t believe I let myself get so carried away. It’s pathetic, honestly.” Oikawa pretends to shiver at the thought. 

“Then again, I could be doing you more harm than good if this alpha is your true-”

“Koushi. If you say the phrase true mate ever again, I’m going to find a new best friend.” 

Suga hums. “Good luck with that.” 

“God, neither of us are drunk enough yet.” Oikawa waves down a server, a beta because these types of clubs only hire betas, and orders not one, but two rounds of tequila shots. 

“We’re going to feel awful in the morning.” 

“That’s the plan~.” 

They’re a mess of laughter by the time their drinks arrive, and they nearly spill all over themselves as they link arms to down the first shot. 

It’s a blur from there. 

Following their usual routine, they spend god knows how long ranking the alphas they see on a scale of one through ten, one being icky and ten being fuckable on sight. They take bets on who has the biggest knot of the alphas sitting at the bar. Another round of shots. They vote on which omega is the horniest based on what they’re wearing (a boy who’s in nothing but a mini skirt and a bralette wins) and pretend to judge the people they see dancing. One more round. 

And soon enough, an audience of alphas are congregated near the omegas’ table, failing to be stealthy as they sneak glances, trying to make their pheromones the strongest smell in the room. Oikawa and Suga are used to this. Drunk, nicely-dressed, unbonded omegas are an alpha’s wet dream, to say the least, and both of them are aware of that. Well aware. 

Oikawa clears his throat, stretches his arms towards the ceiling. “It is time, Koushi.” 

“Took you long enough.” The other omega giggles. He doesn’t plan on flirting with anyone, not when he’s engaged to the hottest alpha he’s ever met, but Suga can’t resist falling back against his chair, rolling his neck where the alphas can see, running his hands up into his hair. It’s a power thrill, more than anything. 

Oikawa, however, is more desperate than usual to be fucked, and he takes his time sitting up, hooking his fingers under his shirt. He’s wearing the same thing that he wore to the planetarium, but he didn’t have an opportunity to show Iwaizumi what was _underneath_. 

Fuck Iwaizumi. 

A laugh bubbles out of his throat at the feeling of alpha eyes on him, as he pulls his blouse off to reveal sheer lace covering his collarbones and torso. It’s white, because white symbolizes innocence and alphas like innocence (even if Oikawa isn’t innocent whatsoever). 

The weight of the air around their table changes, or rather the scent. It’s heavier, looming and invasive, sending chills through the omegas’ bodies, and the alphas in Oikawa’s vicinity unconsciously move closer. But again, they’re used to this. 

“Which one?” Koushi whispers. 

“I’m thinking that tall one over there by the wall,” Oikawa points in his direction. “Dark eyes. Dark hair. Nice ass. And he’s fucking ripped.” 

The omegas burst into laughter for no reason other than they’re ridiculously drunk.

Oikawa stumbles out of his chair, loving how light his muscles feel, how everything looks like a puddle of water as he makes his way to the alpha. Not that he approaches him, because Oikawa Tooru never approaches anyone, but he gets close enough that the alpha catches a whiff of his scent. The omega makes it to the bar and orders something sweet, making sure to lean against the counter and arch his back and stick his ass out. That usually makes alphas come to him. 

“Hey.” 

The alpha has a deep, reverberating voice, just like Oikawa thought. But the omega pretends like he doesn’t hear him. 

Step one. 

The alpha speaks a little louder. “Hey.” 

Oikawa still doesn’t react until he feels a tap on his shoulder. He makes sure his eyes are wide and lips parted as he turns to face him, batting his eyelashes just enough. Even drunk, this routine is second nature to the omega. 

“Can I help you?” 

“I was wondering if I could buy you a drink.”

Oikawa smiles at him, relishing in how the alpha tenses. “Oh, that’s okay. Thank you, though.” 

Step two.

“Are you sure?” The alpha steps closer to him. “Then how about something to eat?” 

“No, I’m fine.” 

The bartender slides Oikawa’s drink to him, and the omega makes a show of wrapping his lips around the straw, fluttering his eyes shut, dragging his tongue along the rim. The alpha exhales loudly by accident. 

Step three.

“I wanna go dancing.” Oikawa suddenly announces, leaving his drink and giving the alpha a smirk as he darts towards the dancefloor. The alpha follows him through the crowd, barely keeping up with the omega. 

Step four. 

Dancing is when Oikawa is the most irresistible, and more eyes turn to him once he starts curving his neck, opening his mouth, spreading his legs. The alpha is bumping up against him in no time. Oikawa grinds back onto him, slapping the alpha’s hand away as he reaches for the omega’s hips. 

Step five.

Oikawa drops even lower, throws his head back at the feeling of this alpha’s cock rubbing against his ass. There’s already slick leaking out of him. He’s too drunk to care if it stains his pants, or if the alpha can smell it. He just grinds harder, and this time, he doesn’t stop the alpha when he feels fingers in his hair. It feels good. And he’s so hot, everything around him is so hot, with body heat enveloping him, flashing lights and moving silhouettes, music deafening his senses. 

He almost doesn’t hear himself when he moans out, “ _Iwa…_ ”

Oikawa freezes. 

And then he throws up on the dance floor.

* * *

“Excuse me!” Suga leans against the bar, his tongue between his teeth with a smile. “Have you-” He hiccups. “Have you seen my friend?”

“Who’s your friend?” The bartender asks. 

“Oh, uh, brown hair? Yes, brown hair, and brown eyes. Omega. He’s a really fucking hot omega. Like the hottest omega you’ve ever seen.” He gestures with his hands, but the gestures don’t exactly mean anything. The bartender narrows her eyes.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know.”

“Shit!” Suga groans, squeezes his eyes shut. Another hiccup jerks his body. 

He scans the crowd again, searching for white lace and Oikawa. 

After he left to hook up with that alpha, Suga was left alone with more than a few pushy alphas of his own, although he just got free drinks and some phone numbers before sending them away. That was an hour ago, though, and Suga’s concerned. It’s not the first time Oikawa has left the omega alone at a club, but he always at least texts Suga to tell him where he is, who he’s going with. 

Suga checks his phone. There’s a missed call from Daichi. Nothing from Oikawa. 

“I think he’s in the bathroom.” Someone nudges the omega’s arm. It takes Suga a moment to look up and realize it’s the alpha Oikawa had been talking to. 

“Oh! You!” Suga giggles. “Did you two fuck?” 

“No.” The alpha seems to stiffen. “He… had an accident. You should check on him.” 

That’s enough to sober Suga up. He doesn’t waste any time rushing to the bathroom, the one for omegas, shooing people out of the way to get inside. It’s not hard to tell which stall Oikawa is in; Suga could hear his retching from outside. The stall door isn’t even locked. 

“Oh my god, babe!” Suga drops to his knees beside the other omega, brushing his hair back as Oikawa clutches the toilet. “What happ-”

Oikawa whips his head up. His eyes are teary, bloodshot. “ _I fucking hate Iwaizumi._ ” 

“We know this!” Suga shakes his head. “What does that have to do with-”

Oikawa vomits again. 

Suga rubs Oikawa’s back, shakes his head again. “Okay, I’m calling someone to come get us. You need to get home.” 

He pulls his phone out again and hits his most recent notification. Oikawa starts to make a noise that sounds like an objection, but he’s coughing before he can form any words.

Daichi answers on the first ring. “Hey, babe, I’ve been trying to reach you.” 

“Hey!” Suga’s voice takes on the fluttery tone he uses exclusively with his fiance. “I’m really drunk right now. Just so you know. And Oikawa is throwing up. So… Can you come get us? Please?”

Suga hears the jingling of keys on the other end instantly. “I’m on my way. Text me your location.”

“You are a lifesaver. I will make this up to you, Daichi.” 

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. I promise.” Suga smiles, heartbeat quickening at an inappropriate pace given the circumstances. 

“Guess I better hurry then.” 

Oikawa swats at Suga’s leg, trying his best to glare. “I’m gonna keep throwing up if you start having phone sex.” 

Suga struggles to lift Oikawa enough to walk, but he manages somehow, clutching both of their purses and balancing Oikawa’s arm over his shoulder. He walks him to the front of the club, outside into the dark air. It’s chilly out. Oikawa’s shirt is still inside, lost on the floor somewhere, and Suga feels bad about not holding onto it; the omega shivers around him. 

Even still, Suga can’t help but laugh. 

“Is this funny for you? Watching your best friend get sick?” Oikawa grumbles. 

“No, no,” Suga looks somewhere above them, at the stars. There aren’t many out tonight. “Well, maybe a little.”

Oikawa tries to kick him but almost trips instead. 

“You haven’t told me what happened yet.” Suga says, his laughter dying.

“I don’t know, Koushi.” Oikawa stares at the concrete. “He was hot. I was so ready to let him fuck me. But,” he bites his lip, “I think it’s just because he looked like him.”

“Like who?”

“Like Iwaizumi.” 

“Ah.” 

“They had the same eye color.” 

Suga notices Daichi’s car turn onto the street. The omega waves their purses, stepping forward so he can see them better. 

“I said his name, Koushi.”

“Hm?” 

“I said Iwaizumi’s name. While I was grinding on that guy. I said his name.” 

Oikawa’s still staring at the ground. 

Suga doesn’t say anything else. He just brings him closer, nuzzles him, scents him a little. It takes a minute, but Oikawa relaxes against him. 

The car ride home is silent. 

Daichi waits in his car while Suga helps a half-sleeping Oikawa back into his house, passing him and his purse to Harumi. She promises that someone will go pick up the car from the club. Oikawa gives Suga a look that means they’ll probably be on the phone for six hours tomorrow, but that’s okay. 

Suga stumbles back to the passenger’s seat, sighing as Daichi slips on his seatbelt for him. 

“Oh, I can do that.” But Suga smiles at the gesture. 

“I know you can.” Daichi looks at him clearly for the first time all evening. “But I want to.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Want some water?” Daichi reaches into the backseat, pulling out a plastic bottle. 

“Yes, god.” 

Daichi rubs circles into Suga’s thigh as he drinks. 

“I missed you today. I was worried when I didn't know where you were.”

“You know Oikawa,” Suga puts the cap back on the bottle, shrugging. “He likes to be spontaneous. Sometimes he’ll show up and tell me we’re going clubbing, and then we do. But I could have texted you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, babe. I’m just glad both of you got home safe.” 

“I’m not home safe yet.” 

“As long as you’re with me, you’re safe as you can be. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, Koushi.”

Suga leans toward Daichi, both of them smiling into the kiss. If Oikawa were here, Suga knows he would make gagging noises and accuse them of being cringy. Maybe he’s right. But Suga has a soft spot for cliches. Only Daichi needs to know that, though. 

“Let’s get you back to your house.” Daichi turns the ignition. 

“...Do we have to?” 

Daichi glances at him. The omega has a twinkle in his eye, in the way he’s biting his bottom lip. Tousling his hair, he turns his neck against the seat so his scent glands are exposed in the alpha’s direction. He learned that from Oikawa. 

“What about your parents? They’re usually mad when you’re not home by 1.” Daichi says, but Suga can smell what the alpha’s really thinking. 

“I don’t care.” 

“You don’t care?”

“Do you?”

“Not if you don’t.”

Suga leans into Daichi’s ear, nipping the cuff and letting out a whine not much louder than a breath that rolls off the omega’s throat. “Then don’t take me home.” 

Daichi doesn’t usually speed. He’s overly cautious about those things when Suga’s with him. But turning out of Oikawa’s driveway, he’s never slammed the acceleration so hard in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the longest chapter so far ahh !! 7k words after many, MANy hours spent writing this one ddfxrpojvf (dont worry, i have so much fun writing this fic u dont understand ^^ 🥰) thank you soo much for reading, especially if you bookmarked or subscribed, i really do appreciate it :) please look forward to more ushijima and sakusa and oisuga shenanigans (and eventual smut ofc). i love comments so feel free to let me know what you think 🥺❤️ i love you to the moon, sending u love and positive vibes (*≧ω≦*)  
> 


	5. Chapter 5

Iwaizumi glances over at his bag resting against the gravel. His fingers unconsciously make their way to his pockets, his empty pockets, brushing over them out of habit. The absence of his phone in those pockets is an uncomfortable feeling, but it’s necessary, and it’s not like it’s missing or anything because his phone is in his bag. Right there. If he leaned out of his chair and stretched his arms enough, he could reach it. He could pull his phone out of his bag. He won’t. But he could. 

“Iwaizumi?” A hand in front of his face snaps his attention away. “Did you hear any of that?” 

“Huh? Um, yeah. Yeah.” He blinks at Matsukawa, taps his fingers on his knees. He definitely didn’t hear anything the beta had been saying for the last ten minutes. If it weren’t for his goddamn phone… 

Matsukawa gives him a sarcastic look, the edges of mouth twitching into a smile. “So, I’m just gonna assume you weren’t actually listening and give you the abridged version. Which is basically, I’m sorry.” 

Oh. Right. That’s what they had been talking about. 

The anger he had practically stomped to the carwash with today explodes back to the forefront of his mind, sizzles beneath his skin, makes his eyes harden into a glare. His senses heighten at the rush, something that only happens to alphas. Iwaizumi’s sort of different in that way, in the way he’s more patient, more in control than other alphas his age, but it also means that his rage is more potent, too. 

Matsukawa takes an involuntary step back.

To Iwaizumi’s credit, he spent the last two days trying to talk himself down. He avoided certain thoughts that made his mood spike, thoughts related to planetariums and omegas and fancy cars and friends who go behind your back. Seeing Matsukawa this morning undid all of his preparation, though. How many times did he cuss at the beta when he first got here? But then he sat down in this shitty plastic chair to stop himself from slamming his fist into Matsukawa, and he got distracted by his stupid fucking phone which he wouldn’t mind grinding into the concrete right about now. 

“I just- I can’t fucking believe you.” Iwaizumi seethes. 

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“How? In what universe was that a good idea?” 

“Look, I said I’m sorry.” Matsukawa rests a hand on his waist. “I felt like it was my duty, as your friend, possibly your best friend, to do something. I’m getting tired of third-wheeling every shift.” 

Iwaizumi sucks in a breath. “What the fuck does that mean?” 

“It’s like I don’t exist when he shows up. You two have your little moment and flirt and stare into each other’s eyes and shit, and then he leaves. It’s like you two think you’re back in high school or something.”

“You can’t be third-wheeling if we’re not fucking _together_.” The alpha’s voice drops low. Matsukawa takes another step back, but he shrugs. 

“It’s not my problem if you don’t see it. I’m just stating it as it is.” 

Iwaizumi can think of a thousand rebuttals he wants to spit out, but instead, he slouches into his chair, kicking a rock to channel some of his irritation. Matsukawa is delusional. How is there anything flirtatious about the way the alpha purposefully ignores Oikawa’s attempts at getting his attention? It doesn’t matter what Iwaizumi says, though. He knows Matsukawa won’t listen. 

His eyes land on his bag again. His phone. He kicks another rock. 

“No hard feelings?” Matsukawa has the audacity to ask after a few silent minutes. 

Iwaizumi wants to tell him that there are _many_ hard feelings, but he assumes it’s almost noon and doesn’t want to be fuming when cars start pulling up, especially when Oikawa- 

He recoils at the thought. 

Why would he care if Oikawa sees him angry? Sure, omegas get anxious when they’re around an alpha with hostile pheromones (which Iwaizumi probably reeks of)... But he doesn’t give a fuck about how Oikawa feels. Not at all. 

He has a lot he wants to say to the omega, sure, mainly about the fucking picture in his camera roll right now. Which he hasn’t deleted. 

Wait. 

Why _hasn’t_ he deleted it? 

“Iwaizumi?” Matsukawa rips him from his thoughts again. 

“Ah, uh, yeah.” He stands up, taking a deep breath. “No hard feelings.” It’s not about Oikawa. “Just- Don’t do something that stupid again.” He should calm down for a multitude of other reasons that don’t involve Oikawa. Or his phone, for that matter, which he can’t help but look towards, resisting the urge to take it out of his bag.

“Promise.” Matsukawa grins. 

Then the beta sighs, stretches as their first car pulls up, a regular black car that would be cheap for Oikawa’s taste. Iwaizumi hardly notices, though, because he’s debating moving his phone from his bag to his back pocket, until Matsukawa nudges him to get his bucket. 

His phone is in his bag for a reason. That reason being ever since Sunday, ever since he went back to the planetarium to find it, ever since he opened it to find Oikawa’s picture and phone number, he hasn’t been able to stop checking it. Every five minutes, less than that, his fingers grab his phone without him realizing, open up that contact. He can’t figure out why, but the urge is impossible to resist. 

And he can’t bring himself to delete it. He just stares at Oikawa’s phone number, at his stupid picture with that stupid look on his face. When his phone vibrates, he keeps waiting for a notification from an unknown number. Does Oikawa have Iwaizumi’s information? He can’t help but wonder… What would Oikawa text him? What would his voice sound like if he called? 

Someone must have cursed him. Maybe it was the omega himself, Iwaizumi doesn’t know, but he can’t think of any other reason he’s been infatuated with his phone for the last 48 hours. Or why he can’t bring himself to delete the picture. Or his number. 

And he’s tried, so much more than once, he’s hovered a fingertip over that red button and gritted his teeth, told himself a million reasons as to why nothing good can come from having the omega’s phone number. 

Yet he just… can’t. 

“Dude. You’re really zoning out today. Everything okay?” Matsukawa says. 

The car is driving off already, even though Iwaizumi doesn’t remember washing it. He doesn’t remember sitting back down, either. What the hell is going on with him? 

“Um, yeah,” He clears his throat, swallows hard. “Sorry. Just tired.” 

“Gotcha. Make sure you get some sleep tonight.” 

Iwaizumi nods. “Right, yeah. I will.” 

A few empty minutes pass. At one point, Iwaizumi swears he hears his phone vibrate and it takes everything in him to ignore it, though it turns out to be Matsukawa’s phone, anyway. The beta gives him a look. 

“Are you expecting a call or something?”

“No.” Iwaizumi blurts. “The opposite of that.” Shit. Too much information. 

“Uh, should I ask what that means?” 

Iwaizumi sighs, shakes his head. “Never mind. Don’t worry about it.” 

But then Matsukawa gasps, making Iwaizumi jerk his head up but regret it when he sees the smile on the beta’s face. That wasn’t a real gasp, and Iwaizumi’s seen that smile before.

“You have his number?” Matsukawa smirks. 

“No! Well, not because I want it-”

“See? I knew it was a good idea.”

“That’s not how it happened, I never- I didn’t ask for it, or anything like that, he fucking took my phone and- don’t give me that look, I’m not joking.” Iwaizumi stutters, staring daggers into the beta as he nods along with that stupid smirk. Matsukawa doesn’t believe him, the alpha isn’t oblivious of that. 

Thank god that another car rolls up before Matsukawa can say anything else obnoxious. When they finish, though, the beta stays quiet. He’s silent, weirdly silent for several minutes, and Iwaizumi would probably have a bad feeling about it if he wasn’t so preoccupied with the other shit in his head. 

Until Matsukawa says, “Isn’t Oikawa usually the first one here?”

Iwaizumi’s throat gets tight. 

He didn’t notice.

Wednesdays and Saturdays, fifteen minutes past noon, an expensive car with that omega in the driver’s seat without fail. But he’s not here.

And Iwaizumi didn’t even notice. 

“He is. He always is.” 

“Hm. Maybe he ran out of cars.”

“No, he drove the BMW three times-” Iwaizumi stops himself, his heart quickening his blood and his words. How does he know that?

Matsukawa puts a hand in his pocket. “Well, maybe he’s just running late.” 

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi says that a little too eagerly. “He’s running late. That’s it.” 

Four hours late is a lot, though. Iwaizumi managed to survive four hours of silence and waiting and impatience, of thoughts running wild from car accidents to medical emergencies to an early heat, but Oikawa didn’t smell like he was near his heat, did he? It takes all of his self control for Iwaizumi to resist ripping his bag open, finding the omega’s number, calling him and demanding to know why he isn’t at the car wash. 

Four hours. 

“We close in ten minutes, so I guess he’s not coming today. Bummer.” Matsukawa sighs, beginning to clean up and giving Iwaizumi a look that says he should do the same. 

“I… I guess not.” 

“Are you disappointed?”

“Why would I be?” Iwaizumi growls. 

“Just asking.” 

But that bothers him for the rest of their shift. 

_Are you disappointed?_

He isn’t. He shouldn’t be. Maybe he is. Well, so what if he is? The car wash is boring as hell, it’s understandable that Oikawa’s presence made things a bit more lively. Anyone would feel that way. Anyone. 

Iwaizumi grinds the back of his teeth together as he puts the chairs away, rejoices at the feeling of his bag in his fingertips, an adrenaline high washing over him as he opens his phone for the first time on the walk back to his apartment. 

One new text. 

He’s not ready for the crash that hits him when he realizes it’s just Sakusa telling him he’s going out tonight. It’s a disgusting feeling, whatever this emotion is. 

Nothing from Oikawa. He expected that, but- 

He is disappointed. And it’s the kind of disappointment that not just anyone would feel. 

The feeling of this realization is disgusting, too. 

Sakusa’s at the sink washing a few dishes when Iwaizumi comes in, exchanges his shoes for slippers, heads straight to his room with nothing but an unenthusiastic “ _I’m home_.” He looks awful. Not physically so, but emotionally given the shadows on his face. Sakusa doesn’t ask, mainly because he doesn’t like it when people ask him about those sorts of things. But also because he doesn’t care. 

“Iwaizumi.” He sets a cup he already washed in the dishwasher. “Did you get my text?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry I didn’t respond. That’s fine.” Iwaizumi stops in the hallway, rubbing the back of his neck. Sakusa crinkles his nose at the smell of sweat and hint of metal.

“I’ll be back around 10.” 

“Sounds good. I’ll, uh, get takeout.” 

And then Iwaizumi disappears down the hall, the sound of his bedroom door clicking shut a moment later. 

Sakusa narrows his eyes. The other alpha must really be out of it if he didn’t ask how Sakusa’s day was. He always asks, that mundane question that Sakusa’s gotten used to because Iwaizumi seems genuinely interested. 

Sakusa just turns back to the dishes, forgetting about the thought with a roll of his wrists. It’s not his problem. He starts scrubbing the last mug in the sink. 

As he starts the dishwasher, washes the sink and puts his gloves in the cabinet underneath, he notes that it’s 5:14. He shouldn’t leave any later than 5:50. That gives him 36 minutes to get ready. 

He undresses in his bedroom with a quickness to his movement that he usually doesn’t have, save for nights like these, tying his bathrobe around his waist as he heads to their bathroom. His shower lasts 15 minutes, enough time to condition, shampoo, and moisturize his hair and lather himself in unscented, antibacterial soap. He shaves his legs, underarms, stomach, below his stomach. Sakusa hates body hair. 

The next fifteen minutes is spent exfoliating, moisturizing, making every inch of his skin glow. He runs a towel over his hair, tousles it with his fingers because he learned a long time ago that his black curls are uncontrollable. Then he flosses. Brushes his teeth. Swishes some mouthwash. The only makeup he’s comfortable with is mascara, so he touches his eyelashes up a bit before going back to his room, to his closet. 

A little over five minutes. He pulls on skinny jeans and a black shirt, his mask tugging on his ears. Nondescript, the way he always dresses on these nights. Pulling his tote bag over his shoulder, he checks to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. Phone, keys, wallet, hand sanitizer, hand wipes, face oil sheets, another mask, gloves, a journal and pens in case he has an idea he wants to write down. 

As he steps out of the apartment, he hears the bathroom door slam and water rushing in the sink. Again, not his problem. 

The walk to the café takes Sakusa about seven minutes, sometimes more or sometimes less depending on how many people he has to avoid on the street. But what’s important is that he’s always early. 

He’s greeted by the cashier, an omega, as he heads to a table tucked the farthest in the back. Maybe Sakusa’s too paranoid, but he suspects that she recognizes him. They’ll have to change locations next time. Again. 

He follows his routine of wiping down the table and both seats, ordering a triple espresso once he deems the space clean. Caffeine is the only thing that helps resist the urge to leave and never look back when he sees that flash of blonde hair at the front of the shop. He takes a big sip.

“Omi-Omi!” 

Sakusa cringes, but his pulse jumps, too. He’s glad that his mask is covering the blush he can never seem to get rid of when Atsumu calls him that. 

Atsumu smiles at him, a smile that Sakusa is convinced he doesn’t deserve, as he approaches the table, stopping a few feet away from it. Without prompting, he pulls his hoodie down enough for Sakusa to see his scent glands covered by transparent patches that almost make it look like he’s not wearing any. He smiles wider, too, as if showing Sakusa that he did remember to brush his teeth. 

Pulling his mask down to his chin, Sakusa takes a tentative sniff. He can’t pick up on any pheromones that brand Atsumu as an omega, other than the faint smell of chamomile which he can only detect because he’s grown accustomed to it. That alone sends a chill down his spine.

Sakusa hates pheromones. Or more specifically, he hates the effect that pheromones have on people, like himself. Only bad things can come from an omega’s smell, the way it makes his head feel clouded, makes him think irrationally, and that’s on a normal day. God forbid he experiences what an omega nearing heat smells like… He wears a mask for reasons more than hygienic. The amount of information you can gather about a person from their scent, it’s an invasion of privacy to him. 

“You showered?” Sakusa asks. 

“Of course, Omi-kun.” Atsumu puts lazy hands on his hips. “And no need to ask about the rest of it. Birth control, suppressants, I remembered it all. Promise. Plus, I brushed my teeth twice.” His grin might seem sarcastic on the surface, but Sakusa’s come to learn that it’s patient more than anything. 

Sakusa watches him for a moment, but he nods. 

Most omegas don’t like wearing scent patches. Sakusa never asked anyone to, nor did he ever request an omega start birth control to regulate their heats and pheromones, but the people he dated in the past found out he preferred it that way. They didn’t understand his boundaries. He never expected them to. 

He hasn’t courted anyone since the summer after high school because he figured omegas weren’t for him. Until he met Atsumu a couple months ago. 

“I’m surprised you can fall asleep at night with all that caffeine.” Atsumu says, sitting down across from the alpha. 

“I stay up late most nights.” 

The omega looks at him through half-lidded eyes. “You seem like the type.” 

Sakusa wears scent patches himself, for times like this when he’s uncomfortably assaulted by thoughts of how handsome Atsumu is. Instead, he glowers as he brings his coffee to his lips.

“I’ve got work, and I’m busy during the day. I started tutoring an undergrad student last week.”

“Oh? Omi-kun has time to tutor but not to go out with his amazing boyfriend more often?” Atsumu’s smile doesn’t match his words. 

That touches a nerve. 

But then Atsumu quickly asks, “What are you tutoring them in?” 

Sakusa’s grateful for that. 

The alpha isn’t ready to talk about why they can only see each other weekly yet. Why it has to be at coffee shops on the outskirts of the city. Why he gets pissed that Atsumu started using the word “boyfriend” recently, even though they’ve been seeing each other like this for long enough. 

Atsumu is more patient than anyone else he’s met before. 

“I’m helping them with French.”

“Ah, I should’ve guessed.” 

“You should have.”

Suddenly Atsumu’s face lights up. “Omi-Omi, say something to me in French!” 

“Why?” 

“I want to hear what you sound like. I don’t know anything about French, besides that it’s a beautiful language. Isn't it? I want to hear it in your voice.” 

Sakusa opposes anything that makes Atsumu say things like that, romantic like that, but even still, he finds himself murmuring, “ _Tu as les cheveux blonds_.”

Atsumu blinks at him. “What does that mean?” 

“You have blonde hair.” 

Atsumu blinks again. 

“That’s what you decided to say? Out of all of the words in the French language, that’s what you chose?”

“You didn’t specify.” 

The omega sighs, leaning his chin into his hand. “What am I gonna do with you?” 

Sakusa kind of starts to wish he was back at his apartment, with the way his chest feels, in both a good way and a bad way, but maybe Atsumu realizes that because he changes the subject. 

The alpha never expected Atsumu to be so perceptive, either. Not when he seemed like such a dick the first time they met. 

“Well, I’ve been busy lately, too. I spent most of this week in the studio, since ruts are allegedly worse during this time of the summer. You know how it is.”

“I do.” Sakusa says. “I hope they’re taking care of you.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re worried about me, Omi-kun!”

“Of course I am.” 

Atsumu masks his blush with a smirk and a wave. “Don’t be. They’re careful with us omegas, really careful. There’s nothing to be concerned about.” Atsumu leans back into his seat, closes his eyes. “I love what I do.”

Sakusa, on the other hand, hasn’t sorted out his feelings about Atsumu working at a scenting “studio,” as the omega likes to put it. “Laboratory” is more fitting, although the building doesn’t seem to be as nice as a lab. Selling their pheromones is an easy way for omegas to make money. Cute, little bottles that look like perfume, perfect for spraying clothes and pillows and anything else an alpha in rut might want. 

Something like irritation spikes in Sakusa whenever Atsumu brings it up. He doesn’t want to think about what that might mean. 

“Good. I assume everything is kept clean then.” 

“They’re super careful about all of that. Great security, too, since some assholes try to come to the studio every once in a while. Like I said, nothing to worry about.” Atsumu repeats, humming. 

“How’s your brother doing?”

He doesn’t fully understand why Atsumu’s smile drops, his face crinkles whenever Sakusa mentions him. They are twins, aren’t they? 

“Osamu’s fine. Working, obviously, all the damn time. Nothing much there. I had to spend last week in a hotel since Rin had his heat.” 

Sakusa nods. Suna Rintarou, the omega bonded to Osamu. According to Atsumu, living with the two of them is a living hell since all they do is make fun of him, though Sakusa has to wonder how much of that is exaggeration. And how much of it is deserved. 

Atsumu lets out a sigh, and Sakusa can smell mint. “I just wish I had my own place. You know I hate feeling like I owe him something, my brother. He says it’s fine, but I don’t know if he really thinks that.”

“You’ve been looking around for more work, right?” 

“Yeah, every day. No one wants to hire omegas.” He says it nonchalantly, but Sakusa can tell it upsets him more than he’s letting on. “Wouldn’t it be great if we lived together, Omi?” 

That hits another nerve.

“I’m not trying to pressure you or anything! No pressure at all. All I’m saying is you already have a roommate, so what’s the harm in changing who that roommate is? We can wait for your lease-”

“I’m not comfortable with that, Atsumu.” Sakusa stares him dead in the eyes. “We’ve talked about this before.” 

The omega winces under the look, unconsciously bowing his head a little. “I- I know. My bad. I hope I didn’t offend you by bringing it up…But… Isn’t it weird that we haven’t been to each other’s places yet, at all?” 

Atsumu’s selfish. Sakusa already knew that before he started seeing him like this, but he doesn’t mind it necessarily. It’s frustrating, yet maybe the alpha finds it refreshing. Right now, though, Sakusa’s the selfish one. He knows. Still...

“I’m not ready.” 

“That’s okay, Omi-kun.” A soft smile finds Atsumu’s lips. “We’ll wait.” 

It’s dangerous for him to get his hopes up, but the way Atsumu looks at him makes optimism tempting. 

He doesn’t know how long they’ll have to wait. He just hopes to god that Atsumu’s patience lasts.

* * *

There’s a mess of drool and mascara staining Oikawa’s pillow as he lifts his head up, at the sound of a soft knock on his door, but he only pulls his sheets over his face. Of the many times he’s felt like he reached his lowest point in life, this might be rock bottom. Chapped lips. A gross taste in his mouth. Skin so oily he dreads looking in a mirror. 

“Tooru. Don’t make me ask again.” 

“Go away, Harumi!” Oikawa yells, his locked bedroom door giving him confidence to be more disrespectful than usual. 

“That’s it.” 

_Fuck me_. Oikawa jolts up at Harumi’s tone, adrenaline taking off in his veins because she only sounds like that when she’s _really_ angry, and Harumi’s fucking terrifying when she’s angry. Before he can plan an escape route, he hears his door knob clicking. 

“Oikawa Tooru.” She grabs Oikawa by the ear, yanking him out of his sheets, off of his bed. “You have been holed up in your room for two days. Enough is enough.” Ignoring his cries of pain, she marches him to his bathroom and starts filling the tub with hot water, all the while yanking his clothes off flailing arms. 

“I-I can do this myself, Harumi! Ow!” 

“If you can do this yourself,” she starts pulling his jeans off, “then you wouldn’t have gone two days without a shower or without changing your clothes. And what did I tell you about sleeping in your makeup?” 

“I know, god, I didn’t- Ow, stop! Okay, okay, I’m going!” Oikawa stumbles into the tub while Harumi shoves him, pushing him until he plops down. She doesn’t waste any time filling the water with bubbles (pink bubbles that smell like bubblegum, Oikawa’s favorite kind). Lathering her hands with shampoo, she digs her fingers into Oikawa’s hair, and he swears she’s being rough on purpose. 

“Should I scrub your mouth out, too? Who told you that you could speak that way to me, hm?” She gives his ear another pinch. 

“Ah, no! I’m sorry, I-I take it back!” 

She cups water in her hands, pouring it over Oikawa’s soapy hair. “If I had known you’ve been in bed for all this time…” She pours some conditioner in her hand. “I would’ve intervened sooner. I thought it was just your hangover at first which is why I didn’t bother you. Have you even eaten since Sunday?” 

Oikawa plays with the bubbles floating in front of him. He likes to coat his hands and fingers in them, put them on his chin and chest and make shapes. That’s enough of an answer for Harumi. 

“I’ll tell them to make you an early dinner. I refuse to let you eat it up here, though. You’ll have to get dressed and go downstairs.” 

“Dinner...” 

“Yes, dinner. It’s nearly 5 o’clock. And it’s Wednesday, in case you forgot what day it is, as well.” 

“Oh. Wednesday.” 

“Mhm.” Satisfied with his hair, Harumi reaches for a bar of soap to rub into Oikawa’s back. “I thought going to the car wash would get you up. You haven’t told me why you keep going there, you know.” 

Oikawa falters as he scoops up more bubbles, furrowing his eyebrows as red finds his cheeks.“W-Wait, how do you know about that?”

“How many times must I tell you that you can’t hide anything from me, Tooru.”

“I- But- I never-”

“That car wash has something to do with why you’ve been in bed for two days, doesn’t it.” A statement, not a question. 

Wincing at how aggressively Harumi is digging the soap over his shoulders, he manages to give a small nod. 

“An alpha?” 

Oikawa opens his mouth to refute her, indignation boiling up in his throat because Oikawa Tooru doesn’t lose any sleep over fucking alphas, but he stops. She would know if he’s lying. He sinks into the tub, bubbles teasing his nose. He nods again. 

“Well, I won’t ask you about it.” She stands up, wipes her hands on a towel and looks down at the omega until he meets her eyes. “However, what I will say is this: I’ve never seen you act this way about an alpha before, and I think that says something. But if you want something to come of it, you can’t expect him to give 90 when you’re giving 10. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?” Oikawa mulls it over for a moment, and even though his instinct is to reject what she’s saying, he nods. “If he’s different, then you should try something different, too. Make of that what you will, but I’m mainly trying to say that now isn’t the time to hold onto that ‘hard-to-get’ complex of yours.” 

Then she pulls a fresh towel out of the cabinet under his sink, rests it beside the tub along with his bathrobe. “Wash your face. Then come eat something.” 

Oikawa watches with a blank expression as she shuts the door behind her. He looks down at the bubbles melting against his skin, bubblegum swirling in his nose. It feels good, hot water and soap. He didn’t know how badly he needed this. But of course Harumi did, she always does. What would he do without her? 

He slides down until his whole head is submerged, heat stinging his eyelids and the dead skin on his lips. 

At first, it was a hangover just like Harumi assumed. Oikawa had awoken on Monday afternoon with a headache, blurry eyes, nausea that left him stranded over his toilet for hours, his memory still foggy. He could remember picking Suga up and throwing up in the bathroom. He remembered Iwaizumi’s name on his tongue. He wished he didn’t remember that. 

Instead of having to deal with what that meant, the omega found himself crawling back into bed, drifting in and out of restless sleep until early hours of Tuesday morning. He got out of bed to use the bathroom and drink water, but otherwise, he confined himself to his sheets. The thought of eating made him nauseous. The thought of Iwaizumi made him feel even worse. 

He’s glad Harumi got him up, though, even if there’s a disgusting itch in his chest that won’t let him go more than three minutes without thinking of that alpha. 

Oikawa holds his breath until he can’t anymore, jerking up with a gasp. 

It’s Wednesday, is it? He wonders how Iwaizumi reacted when he didn’t show up to the car wash. 

Wait. Did he even notice? Did he care? Why should he care, not after what happened at the planetarium. _Fuck_! That was so humiliating, it hurts for the omega to think about. 

He rubs his palms into his eyes, seething when the soap burns. 

_If he’s different, then you should try something different, too._

The only thing that’s different about Iwaizumi is how rude he is. Maybe apathetic is the better word, or uninterested, but Oikawa thinks Iwaizumi is the rudest, most awful person he’s ever met. If he’s different, it’s for the wrong reasons. 

But he groans as he steps into his bathrobe.

It’s definitely for the right reasons. Even if he doesn’t know what those reasons are yet. 

After scrubbing the makeup crusted onto his skin, he steps back into his bedroom, scouring his closet for something to wear downstairs. So many fucking turtlenecks. 

There’s a hard knock on his bedroom door as he sifts through hangers. 

“I’ll be down in a minute!” He calls out. 

Harumi doesn’t reply, which is weird, especially when there’s another knock on his door a few moments later. 

Oikawa sighs. “Come in!” 

He pulls out two blouses, a cropped blue one and a white one with frilly sleeves, turning as he asks, “Which one do you think-” But his body goes rigid.

“Oh, I’m- I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t be here- I’ll step outside, I-” Ushijima stands frozen in Oikawa’s bedroom. A scarlet blush takes over his cheeks, his eyes unable to resist darting over the omega dressed in only a loose bathrobe. Almost naked. 

All Oikawa can do is stand there. His head bows on its own accord, his hands falling limp at his sides, his neck exposing his scent glands against his will. 

The alpha almost looks like he’s about to give in with the way he swallows, eyes wide, but Harumi’s voice shakes him out of it. “Ushijima-san! Please wait downstairs, he’s not-” She bursts through the door, but it’s obviously too late. 

“Oh, goodness, Tooru, hurry and get dressed,” she says, ushering Ushijima out of his bedroom and giving the omega a sympathetic look on their way. 

Oikawa is only able to move on his own again once Ushijima’s gone. He slumps to his knees, gasping. 

That… He was not expecting that. Another thing that’s incredibly unfair for omegas: shock-induced submission, when an omega caught off guard or frightened by an alpha sometimes submits as a reaction. It’s rare, but of course Oikawa has to suffer from it. Not that he’s often startled by alphas. 

Shock gives way to fury in a matter of moments, though. Oikawa tugs the white shirt on over jeans, blow dries his hair and applies light makeup that he ends up having to redo because he’s so fucking _angry_ that he messes it up. He stomps down the stairs loud enough for everyone to hear, loud enough that everyone can hear that Oikawa Tooru is pissed off. 

Ushijima stands up as Oikawa rushes into the living room, but he holds up his hand before a word can leave the alpha’s mouth. 

“Do you usually barge in on naked omegas?” 

“No.” Ushijima blurts. “You said to come in, I thought-”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know it was you?” Oikawa practically yells. “Hasn’t anyone ever taught you to announce yourself before going into someone’s bedroom?” 

“I can assure you it won’t happen again, I’m so, so sorry.” He gives a slight bow, his bangs spilling over his forehead. He didn’t do his hair before coming, Oikawa notices.

It’s longer than the omega realized. Instead of the preppy clothes he’s usually wearing, Ushijima looks like he threw on jeans and a t-shirt in a rush, too. Oikawa doesn’t know why that makes his throat feel tight. 

“What the hell are you even doing here?” The omega snaps, but it’s not as sharp as he’d like it to be. 

Ushijima blinks, his blush returning, and he shuffles his feet a little. “I heard you weren’t feeling well… So I brought you soup. It has beef in it, because of your favorite flower.” His soft tone sounds nervous. 

“Okay, wait. What does my favorite flower have to do with beef? Or soup?” 

Ushijima fidgets with the bag in his hands. “The Titan Arum. It smells like rotting flesh. Sort of like meat, like beef maybe. It reminded me of beef, so I made you vegetable beef soup.” 

Oikawa could strangle him. 

“I... Never mind, forget it, just- who told you I wasn’t feeling well?” 

“One of your staff.” Ushijima clears his throat. Maybe it’s Oikawa’s imagination, but the alpha looks disappointed, disheartened maybe. Screw him. “Harumi, I believe?” 

Oikawa’s eyes widen. He almost doesn’t want to believe the alpha, but it’s not entirely surprising that Harumi would’ve sold him out like that. 

“Oh. Well. I’m feeling just fine, thank you very much.” He clears his throat, puts his hands on his hips, tilts his chin up and does his best to look down on Ushijima, though it’s more like a pout. “So you can go back to where you came from, and take your soup with you. Goodbye.” 

“Oikawa Tooru.” 

The omega whips his head around.

 _Fuck me. Again._

Harumi has the same tone of voice she used this morning, but she somehow looks angrier as she beckons Oikawa to follow her into the hallway. How long had she been standing there? 

Even though he braces himself, the pinch she gives his ear once they’re alone makes him cry out. 

“You’re acting like a child, Tooru.” She seethes. “Ushijima-san was worried about you. Do you know how many alphas drop everything they’re doing to make homemade soup, just because an omega isn’t feeling well?” Another pinch. “That boy is too good for you. You don’t have to love him to be kind. I raised you better than that.”

“He showed up completely unannounced and walked in on me in my fucking bathrobe, Harumi, don’t I have a right to be a little pissed?” He whispers, massaging the cuff of his ear.

“You can be pissed and still be respectful.” 

“But-”

“No. Go in there and apologize.”

Before Oikawa can argue, Harumi’s pushing him back into the living room, back in front of a very awkward Ushijima who almost looks like he wants to leave as much as Oikawa. They stand, staring at one another with pink cheeks, until Harumi flicks Oikawa’s shoulder. 

“A-Ah, um, Ushijima-san.” He flinches, stuttering and mentally cursing Harumi with every bad word he knows. “I want to… apologize. Your soup, it’s really, um, thoughtful. Of you. Thanks.” He coughs every word up, Harumi’s hand hovering over his back being his only motivation.

“No need to apologize. I certainly caught you off guard today, that’s my fault. I hope this soup helps you feel better, Oikawa-san.” 

All Oikawa wants to do is roll his eyes and flip him off, but he grits his teeth together, nodding slightly. 

He refuses to let it end like this, though, not with this much pent up anger crawling under his skin. There has to be a way for him to have fun with Ushijima somehow. 

His eyes land on the soup in Ushijima’s hands. 

He can work with that. 

Making sure that the alpha is looking at him, Oikawa suddenly gasps, his eyes fluttering and body slumping into the nearest chair in the most dramatic way he can manage. Ushijima rushes forward, just as he planned, and even Harumi looks startled. 

“Oikawa-san? What’s wrong?” Ushijima kneels in front of the omega’s chair, calming pheromones pouring out of his neck that nearly make Oikawa drop his act. But he manages by inhaling ragged breaths through his mouth. 

“You…” The omega squeezes his eyes shut. “You were right. I’m-I’m not feeling well.” He lets his head fall back, his exposed neck hopefully encouraging Ushijima to be a bit more pliable. “It must be… my blood sugar.” 

Ushijima’s pheromones become even more potent with concern. Perfect. “What do you need? What can I get for you?” 

“Something sweet. Like… chocolate. Please, get me some chocolate.” 

“Of course.” Ushijima nods. “Harumi-san, is there chocolate in the house?” 

Oikawa opens one eye, peeking up at Harumi. With the death stare she’s giving him, the omega is sure she’s caught on by now, but he expected that. She won’t do anything while Ushijima is here. 

He sticks his tongue out at her. 

“Tooru’s father doesn’t allow sweets.” Harumi looks back at the alpha. “There’s no chocolate here.” 

“I’ll just have to go get some then.” Ushijima stands up quickly. 

Harumi shakes her head, furrows her eyebrows. “No, no, there’s no need-”

“Please. Ushijima.” Oikawa croons over her, batting his eyelashes up at the alpha. “You would do that for me?” 

Ushijima becomes flustered at that, blinking and swallowing as if he’s trying to compose himself. “Of course.” He nods, even gives Oikawa a soft smile, before telling Harumi that he’ll be back as quickly as he can. 

He doesn’t waste any time hurrying to his car, looking up stores nearby that might sell chocolate Oikawa would enjoy, and soon he’s speeding (albeit carefully) into the city. 

Ushijima isn’t oblivious. 

He knows Oikawa doesn’t love him. When they met a few years ago, Ushijima was just one of many alphas courting the omega, an omega who loved the attention but hated commitment from what Ushijima could tell. Oikawa liked Ushijima’s attention for a little while, but he grew tired of it. If only the alpha hadn’t been swept up by that smile… 

Even after the wedding, Ushijima doesn’t know if Oikawa will ever love him. All he knows is that he won’t ever stop trying to prove himself, no matter if that takes months or years or a lifetime. Oikawa Tooru is worth it, despite the bitterness and sarcasm and lies he tells about needing chocolate that Ushijima will fall for as long as it makes the omega happy. 

The store Ushijima parks outside of looks nice enough, although he’s overwhelmed by the sheer amount of different types of chocolates and candies listed on the chalkboard above the counter. There’s a display case, too, but it occurs to him that he doesn’t know what kind of chocolate Oikawa even likes. 

“Good evening!” An enthusiastic voice chirps, a voice belonging to the man behind the register. “What are we looking for tonight?” 

Ushijima looks up from the display. He starts to ask for a sample of strawberry fudge, but he falls into a sort of trance as he meets the man’s eyes. Beautiful eyes.

A shade of crimson-brown that Ushijima hasn’t seen before. Eyes that belong to an omega. 

He immediately looks toward the man’s name tag. 

_Tendou Satori_.

* * *

“Where do you think you’re going, Tooru?” Harumi snaps, hurrying behind the omega as he slips his shoes on. 

“Koushi’s house.” 

“Really? And what makes you think that?” 

Oikawa resists saying something snarky as he looks at Harumi’s scrunched up expression. “I have to go somewhere before Ushijima-san gets back.” 

“I really can’t believe you faked something like that just to get him to leave.” Harumi blocks Oikawa’s path before he can grab a set of keys. “What am I supposed to say when he comes back, hm? What about the chocolate he’s so generously buying you?” 

Oikawa looks at the ceiling, groaning. “I don’t know! He can eat it himself, or you can have it, I don’t know. I just- I can’t deal with him today. Please try to be sympathetic.” 

“I’m not saying you have to deal with him today. But there are better ways to go about this than what you’re doing. I won’t allow you to leave until you clear things up with him. In person.” 

“Harumiii,” Oikawa frowns. “Don’t make me-”

“Excuse me?” They’re interrupted by an omega peeking her head into the hallway, one of the maids. She holds up her hand, and it takes a second for Oikawa to recognize his cellphone in her grip. “Your phone was in your room when I heard it start to ring, Oikawa-san. You should hurry to answer it.” 

Oikawa steps around Harumi to take his phone from the maid. “Oh, thank you.” He stares down at the incoming call on his screen. 

He doesn’t recognize the number. 

Something prickles on the back of his neck. 

Holding up a finger to tell Harumi to wait, he stumbles into the nearest room with a lock and yells at his heart for beating so fast, his eyes transfixed by his screen. Unknown number. He debates if he should answer or let it ring, maybe wait for a voicemail, but his finger is pressing the green button before he makes up his mind. He freezes. Listening.

There’s silence for a long moment, other than the faint static phone calls always have, and the thunderous sound of Oikawa’s blood in his ears. 

The omega licks his lips. “Hello?”

Silence. 

“Hello?” Oikawa’s hand shakes as he grips his phone. “Is anyone there?” 

Again, silence. 

Oh. 

His heart sinks. It must be a spam call. 

“Wait,” someone blurts on the other end. 

Oikawa’s heart all but stops. 

He can’t believe the voice, doesn’t want to believe the voice, if only out of the fear that it might not be _him_. But… there’s no denying it. Oikawa recognizes that voice. 

“...Iwaizumi?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok ok i know the slow burn aspect is reallyyyyy slow but i promise we’re getting there! ♡(｡- ω -) that’ll just makes the romantic parts even better, right? 💕  
> i just can’t resist,, sakuatsu !!! ushiten !!! tbh i feel bad for ushi and i’m the one writing this djwjjxjwns ^^ ushiten won't be a huge part as the fic progresses, no more than what ushi already has pretty much, but there will be a fair amount of sakuatsu (i think??). obv iwaoi is the focus though, and i'll have some daisuga, too. maybe this fic will make someone who didn't ship sakuatsu before start to love them .... that would be nice :D  
> ahh anyway thank you THANK YOU for reading :)) ❤️ we’re at over 100 subs on this fic and you don’t understand how happy that makes me! as always, chapter update will be posted within the next week, let me know what you think, and come say hi anytime! ilysm ~ ✨


	6. Chapter 6

Iwaizumi cringes as the bathroom door slams behind him, one of Sakusa’s many pet peeves, but his face, his body, his veins, he feels like he’s fucking burning alive. Falling onto his elbows over the sink, yanking the handle until he feels cold water drenching his shaking hands, his head might explode. He can hear the faint sound of the apartment door shutting somewhere behind him as Sakusa leaves for the evening. 

Thank god for that.

He tears his t-shirt off, makes a mess as he drenches every inch of skin he can reach. It would be easier to take a shower, he wants nothing more than a cold shower, but he wouldn’t be able to take his phone with him. 

Instead, it rests on the counter beside the soap, mocking him with notifications he couldn’t give a shit about. Notifications that aren’t Oikawa. 

Not that he should be getting any notifications from Oikawa. Or that he should want to. He swears he doesn’t. But, _damn it_ , he can’t figure out what this nagging in his chest is. It’s beyond annoying, this chanting of _Oikawa Tooru_ that every cell in his body won’t shut up about; a broken record that raises his body temperature with every memory of that omega that fights its way to the forefront of his mind. 

Iwaizumi spent the walk home from the carwash assaulted by memories of Oikawa’s eyes, lips, clothes, ass, scent glands… His imagination contributed a few other images, but he had done his best to blur those while in public. 

A growl manifests in the bottom of his throat thinking about all of it, all of those things he has no reason to be thinking about. He splashes more cold water over his head. 

_Get it together_. 

He had nearly walked into oncoming traffic with his eyes glued to his phone, distracted more than usual because Oikawa wasn’t at the carwash. But after his initial anxiety had passed, the alpha realized he was angry more than anything. How can Oikawa come to the car wash twice a week for more than a fucking month and then suddenly stop? What, is it because of Sunday? The planetarium? Not like that was Iwaizumi’s fault; the omega forced himself into that situation on his own. If Oikawa’s worried about it being awkward or something like that, then he should’ve taken that into account. 

Iwaizumi looks up at his reflection. His face and chest are noticeably red, warm to the touch like his skin always is when he gets mad like this. Worse than other alphas, Iwaizumi’s anger affects him physically in the way he heats up and sweats and can’t calm down until he’s doused in cold water. It’s almost like his rut, but nothing is quite like that hell. He’s due soon, though, so that’s probably contributing to whatever _this_ is. 

Hopefully. 

Except after fifteen minutes of hanging over the sink, he doesn’t feel any calmer. If anything, he’s more agitated. He pushes away from the counter and buries his face in a damp towel, groans into it. 

Rather than black behind his eyelids, Iwaizumi sees Oikawa with lights reflecting off smooth cheeks in the planetarium. He sees Oikawa’s smile the first time he stepped out of his ridiculous million dollar car. Pink shorts and whipped cream. Louder than the running water in the sink, than the thrum of blood in the alpha’s ears, Iwaizumi swears he can hear Oikawa’s voice, the look on his face as he said, _“Oikawa Tooru. The same name that’s on my drivers’ license."_

Why is he thinking about that day of all things? 

Iwaizumi throws the towel over his shoulder, dragging fingers through his hair and looking down at his black phone screen. 

Maybe that’s why the omega didn’t come back, because he was harassed by that asshole of an alpha. Another growl rumbles out of Iwaizumi’s throat, but he doesn’t try to suppress the noise, bristling with a fresh wave of fury in his veins. If that’s the problem, then he’ll fucking hunt down that guy and-

More cold water. 

Like Iwaizumi would do that for a shitty person like Oikawa. Besides, the omega can handle himself, and he definitely doesn’t seem like the type of guy to let something like that stop him from doing what he wants. He’s proved that much. 

And that’s the thing that Iwaizumi can’t wrap his head around. All of this time wasted checking his phone, overthinking things he said, imagining things he really shouldn’t be imagining, all because of an omega who Iwaizumi should despise. Rich, bratty, arrogant, pushy, basically every adjective that could be applied to the most stereotypical of preppy kids. Since when was that the alpha’s type? 

He pulls his toothbrush from his drawer, out of its plastic baggy that Sakusa requires they both use to prevent germs from spreading, and digs into his teeth harder than he should. 

Oikawa isn’t Iwaizumi’s type. Not in a thousand goddamn years. 

His brushing abruptly falters. 

Oikawa isn’t Iwaizumi’s type. 

He stares at himself in the mirror, at wet hair and shoulders, reddened skin. 

Oikawa isn’t…

His phone screen lights up all of a sudden and Iwaizumi doesn’t think he’s ever reacted so quickly to something in his life. But it’s only a notification about an update. What else would it be?

Iwaizumi bites down on his toothbrush. His fangs leave a permanent indent in the rubber. 

Clearly he needs more sleep or something, or maybe he should reach out to some kind of doctor? He doesn’t even know, but it’s definitely not normal to be angry when a guy he barely knows, a guy who doesn't know his phone number for fuck’s sakes hasn’t texted him. A guy who Iwaizumi doesn’t like. 

But apparently it doesn’t matter how many times he scolds himself for being stupid and unbelievable, how badly he wants to beat his head against the wall as he turns the sink off and heads back to his bedrom, because Oikawa Tooru is above rationality. 

Iwaizumi isn’t sure what he is. 

In nothing but black briefs, the alpha sits on the edge of his bed with his phone balanced on his knee. He stares at it. The screen lights up after a couple minutes, his heart instantly reacting to the blue light… But it’s just an email. Spam. 

He deletes it. And then he somehow finds himself scrolling through his contacts until he sees the only name with an emoji beside it. He clicks on it. 

Even if he deleted the contact now, the number is ingrained in his head from the amount of time he’s spent staring at this screen over the last couple days. Oikawa’s phone number is like remembering his own birthday at this point. 

He drops his head into the palm of his hand, sighing and letting his eyes slide shut. They only stay closed for a moment, though, before he’s overwhelmed by the unease that comes with not constantly looking at his phone. God, there’s something wrong with him. 

The beeping sound of the dishwasher finishing its cycle makes Iwaizumi jolt up, but that’s good, it’s a good distraction. Unloading the dishwasher is on his list of evening chores, which he nearly forgot about even though it’s been a part of his routine for almost a year now.

But as he stands up, pulling his towel off his shoulders and shaking his head as if that’ll help clear it, his phone starts to fall. Good thing he’s become so dependent on the thing, because his reflexes react faster than his mind to grab it before it hits the floor. Even still, he holds it up to his face to make sure there aren’t any scratches (despite the Godzilla phone case he spent so much money on) and-

His blood turns to ice. 

Paralysis. 

Seconds tick by on the screen. Beneath his heartbeat in his ears, he can hear the faint sound of his phone dialing. It rings once. A second time. Again. 

**_Calling … oikawa~_ ** **😘**

Again **.**

He must have pressed the call button while saving his phone. 

Again. 

Even if he wanted to, Iwaizumi can’t move. All he can do is stare with wide eyes and a heart beating too quickly for it to be healthy, his brain short-circuiting to the point that he almost doesn’t realize when the call is answered. Some conscious part of his brain is begging his thumb to travel the few centimeters to the red button glaring at him, to end the call. But his body doesn’t react. 

Silence. 

And then, “Hello?” 

Iwaizumi’s senses erupt at the sound of the omega’s voice. Like a flower on the verge of dying, Oikawa’s voice is water, life-giving water that the alpha didn’t know he needed so badly, didn’t know how badly he had been craving this voice. A possessive noise on his tongue surprises him and he barely has time to blink, flatten his lips shut, hold himself together and stay quiet. 

He can still end the call. Write it off as an accident, or pretend like it isn’t Iwaizumi’s number, or get a new phone number and avoid the omega for the rest of his life. It would be easy. So easy to just… 

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

Iwaizumi can still end the call, but he won’t. Even if he wouldn’t admit it outloud, even if he doesn’t like admitting it to himself, he’s sort of happy he accidentally dialed Oikawa, because if he hadn’t, he probably would have on purpose. Eventually. Probably. _What the fuck am I even thinking?_

A small sigh on the other end sounds dangerously like the omega is about to hang up, though, and Iwaizumi doesn’t fully process what his body’s doing as he blurts, “Wait.” 

Why the hell did he do that? 

He composes himself enough to unclench the fist gripping his towel, heat flooding his fingers as blood is allowed back in, and stop himself from saying anything else. 

Silence.

“...Iwaizumi?” 

His name in Oikawa’s voice elicits all sorts of tingling in his muscles and images in his head, all of which he struggles to swallows down and, _fuck_ , his rut really must be sooner than he thought. He clears his throat, eyes starting to water because he’s hardly blinked since the call started. 

“Y-Yeah.” He says, and he hates how unsure he sounds. Only an alpha would get insecure about that. 

“I knew it.” Oikawa breathes, more like he’s talking to himself than to Iwaizumi. 

“What?”

The omega clears his throat, too. “I mean- I mean I knew you couldn’t resist calling me.” 

“That’s not-” Iwaizumi stutters. “This isn’t-” He’s starting to regret not ending the call now that he’s actually talking to Oikawa and not rose-tinted memories of Oikawa. Somehow this is better, though. Relieving, in some fucked up way Iwaizumi doesn’t want to think about. 

“There’s no need to lie. I don’t blame you, of course.” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t reply. 

“...So?” 

“So what?” 

“Aren’t you going to tell me why you called?” Oikawa giggles. The sound goes straight to Iwaizumi’s waistband. 

“Oh. Um.”

“Or did you just want to hear the sound of my voice?” Oikawa adds, and the alpha can imagine him pressing a fingertip to his bottom lip. “I wouldn’t blame you for that, either, you know. You can tell me!” 

“I…” Iwaizumi’s too flustered to come up with an excuse, or a lie the omega would believe. So he says the first thing that comes to mind. “Why weren’t you at the car wash today?” 

Silence.

Enough silence for Iwaizumi to grind his back teeth together and dig his palm into his forehead. Really? That’s what he comes up with? _Talk about pathetic._

In reality, the pause only lasts a couple seconds before Oikawa lets out a noise that sounds like he’s snorting into the back of his hand, and that only makes Iwaizumi want to kick himself more. 

“You noticed?”

“Yeah, I did. Why wouldn’t I?” There’s no other way to put how he’s feeling, but it still feels like he’s playing into Oikawa’s hands somehow. 

“Ah. Well, I hope you weren’t too disappointed.”

“I wasn’t.” Iwaizumi retorts quickly. Too quickly. 

Oikawa sounds like he’s smiling as he sighs, “Whatever you say.” 

Silence, but it feels heavy, like there are a thousand words floating between them.

“Is that all?” Oikawa eventually says. 

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” 

“Okay?”

“If that’s all then…” Oikawa pauses for a moment, as if waiting to see if Iwaizumi might interject. “Goodbye, Iwa~.” 

The call ends with a soft beep. 

Iwaizumi barely notices, though. A flurry of emotions ricochet out of his chest, anger first, then confusion, disappointment, more anger, butterflies? No, that can’t be right. He refuses to let Oikawa Tooru of all omegas elicit this uninvited warmth pooling in his stomach. 

“ _Iwa?_ ” He murmurs to himself. 

Yeah. Definitely butterflies. 

Overwhelmed by whatever the fuck just happened, Iwaizumi falls backwards onto his bed. His phone clatters onto the floor. For once, he doesn’t care. 

Maybe if he had more energy he would be beating himself up, for being careless enough to accidentally call the one person he swore he would never call, for sounding so awkward on the phone. For letting himself feel anything more than loathing for a douchebag like Oikawa. It would be easy to blame that part on his approaching rut. If only he could. 

Iwaizumi’s not an idiot. He might be stubborn as hell, but he’s not stupid. He’s not stupid enough to pretend like there’s an excuse for the last two days, staring at Oikawa’s phone number, relief at the sound of the his voice. 

He drapes an arm over his forehead, the other splayed across the sheets. It’s been one hell of a day, even if it’s only 6:15. If he’s gonna order takeout, he should probably do that soon, but he doesn’t have the appetite or the motivation to get anything. 

It only takes a few minutes for sleep to find him. He doesn’t try to fight it. 

•••

_Thighs the shade of sweet cream, soft beneath his fingertips but firm as the omega shudders beneath him. He digs his fingers into those thighs, the only semblance of a thought in his mind encouraging him to leave marks on every inch of conquered skin. Sliding his hands up to the omega’s ass, he yanks lace panties down but is careful not to rip them. He definitely wants the omega to wear them again._

_The smell of slick is one thing, sugary and potent enough to make him lose all control, but seeing it drip straight from the omega’s ass is another drug entirely. He squeezes the omega as he pulls his ass apart to see it better, to lean down and lick up as much of it as he can fit on his tongue. Even better than the taste is the whining mewl that chokes its way out of the omega’s throat._

_The next thing he knows his cock buried in him, too thick to fit completely. He can feel the stretch and strain of the omega’s walls around him as his knot catches, as he leans over the mounted omega with one arm holding his hips in place and the other snaking under his stomach up to his neck, holding the omega’s head up._

_He cums with a few sporadic thrusts, and all that’s left is that beautiful, smooth place on the omega’s exposed neck. With nothing more than a growl, the omega lets his head fall to the side as he falls limp beneath the alpha._

_He sinks his teeth into the omega’s scent glands. The noise the omega makes only encourages him to bite down harder, the taste of the omega’s sweet scent and metallic blood flooding him to his core._

_And then there’s sunlight streaming through an open window waking him up. His skin feels warm, but not in a bad way. Like the warmth of coffee or autumn candles, or an omega nuzzled up against his chest. What day is it? What time is it? Where are they? None of that matters._

_What matters is the omega’s brown hair looking gold like honey under sunlight. He lets out an unconscious purr in his sleep, a sweet sound that the alpha can’t help but reciprocate with his own hum, the alpha equivalent of a purr._

_The omega eventually shifts in his grasp. He lets the alpha’s muscled arms adjust around him as he rolls his neck, revealing a pink mark on his scent glands. The alpha swells at the sight._

_“Good morning,” the omega says with a smile. “How did you sleep, Iwa?”_

•••

Iwaizumi jolts up so quickly that he feels himself slipping off his bed, falling onto the floor with a thud and startled grunt. A book falls off his bedside table at the impact. 

He sits there for a long moment, too stunned to do anything else. 

The lamplight is dim, but it still makes his eyes sting as he adjusts. He drags the back of his hand across his eyelids, blinking away spots of grey and white fog in his vision but unable to do the same with his memory. His head feels like shit. 

When did he fall asleep? And how long ago? 

He sits for a dazed moment longer before reaching for his phone, his phone which he remembers dropping on the floor after- 

His hand falters. 

“ _Holy shit._ ” 

His dream, the dream that just forced him awake in the worst goddamn way possible, a tsunami in the way it comes crashing back into his memories. Of all the dreams he forgets the moment he wakes up, why can’t this be one of them? Because there’s no doubt in his mind that the omega he was fucking was Oikawa, and he isn’t sure how to deal with that. 

It’s just because his rut is soon, right? That has to be it. 

_Please, god, let that be it._

He picks up his phone, groaning as he sees that it’s almost 1 and his alarm is scheduled to go off in six hours. On top of everything else, now his sleep schedule is fucked, too. 

Shutting his lamp off, he climbs back into his bed and plugs his phone into its charger. But he finds himself opening his contacts, scrolling to a number that isn’t Oikawa’s for the first time in days, raising it to his ear without thinking about how bad of an idea this is. He just doesn’t know what else to do. 

“What the hell, dude?” A groggy voice says after a few rings.

“Hey.” Iwaizumi presses his forehead into his pillow. “I’m so sorry, I know it’s late.”

Matsukawa finds enough energy in him to smirk. “No kidding. I assume you have a good reason for calling, though. What’s up?”

“I didn’t really know what else to do. My instinct was to call you, I guess. But, man, this can wait, I’m really sorry, I should’ve-” 

“Iwaizumi.” He cuts him off. “Chill. Just talk to me. It’s about that omega, right?” 

“How did you-”

“What else would it be about?” Matsukawa snorts. “So, what? Did you fuck or something?”

“No, no, it’s not- it’s nothing like that.”

“Not gonna lie, you don’t sound very convincing.” 

Iwaizumi groans. Might as well get this over with. 

“I had a dream.” 

Just like he expected, Matsukawa gasps. “No way. A sex dream? That’s sick.” 

“It’s the opposite of that.” Iwaizumi has to remind himself to keep his voice down if he doesn’t want Sakusa to kill him in his sleep. “It sucks. This sucks.” 

“But why do you think that?” 

Iwaizumi thought it was obvious. “Because Oikawa’s the last omega I would ever even consider hooking up with.” 

“Clearly that’s not true.” 

“I think it is.”

“Okay, seriously?” Matsukawa abruptly loses some of his joking tone. That’s not a good sign. “How long is it gonna take you to realize that you’re into him, whether you like it or not? You’re whipped, man. That’s all there is to it. Now I can sit here and tell you that’s not true or whatever it is you wanna hear, but I’m trying to be honest with you, for your sake.” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t know what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything. 

“Listen,” the beta goes on, the sound of sheets crinkling in the background as he adjusts in his bed. “I think, and this is just my opinion, that you should ask him out. Otherwise, he’s gonna keep eating you up. And if he says no, which he literally won’t, then bam, there’s your closure. And if he says yes and the date sucks, then so be it. You tried it out at least.” 

“Fuck.” Iwaizumi sighs. 

“What?”

“I know you’re right. I just wish you weren’t.”

“That’s my brand.” Matsukawa probably shrugs as he says that. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 

“So you’re gonna ask him out?”

“I guess I have to.” Iwaizumi rolls onto his side, running a hand through his hair. “If I ever see him again.”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you will.” 

“Agreed.” 

Matsukawa yawns. “Okay, well, if that’s all you wanted to talk about, I’m gonna go back to bed.” 

“Right, yeah. Hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“Oh, you didn’t. Makki was about to go down on me, but he’s patient.” 

“Uh. Too much information.”

“Says the guy who just called in the middle of the night to tell me about his wet dream.”

Iwaizumi squeezes his eyes shut. “God, shut up. I knew this was a bad idea.”

“Good night, Iwaizumi.”

“Night.” 

He shuts his phone off, leaving his bedroom pitch dark. 

He’s going to ask out Oikawa. 

As much as the thought pisses him off, as much as he’s avoided doing anything like that for more than a month, there’s something satisfying about it. Something that makes him drift back to sleep with a warm feeling tickling his chest. Something like contentment, maybe.

Or maybe it’s just butterflies.

* * *

“Harumi!” Oikawa shouts, rushing back into the hallway the moment he ends the call. “Harumi, we have an emergency!” 

His breath leaves his chest in quick bursts, this thrum in his blood setting every nerve in his body alight. He hasn’t felt like this since… How long has it been? Since high school? When he gave an alpha head in exchange for a diamond, the first time. It’s something like a power high, or something like a crush, or something like a combination of the two. Not that Oikawa Tooru would ever admit to having a crush on an alpha. 

God, it takes all his self control to keep himself from going straight to Koushi’s house. 

“For goodness sake, slow down!” Harumi nearly trips into Oikawa as he rounds the corner into the living room, his heartbeat having muffled her footsteps. “Tooru, what did I tell you about yelling like that inside?”

“Can’t you say anything that doesn’t involve lecturing me?” Oikawa pouts. 

She gives him a dark look that tells him he definitely shouldn’t have said that, but at least she puts her hands on her hips rather than pinching his ear. They’re still pink from the abuse she put him through today. 

“Ah, okay, I deserve it and I’m sorry and you didn’t raise me to be so disrespectful, I get it.” He rushes through the lecture, saving Harumi from having to say it herself, although she seems more pissed about that than him yelling indoors. “Now can we talk about more pressing matters? Please?” 

She narrows her eyes, but his ears remain safe. “What happened to rushing to Sugawara’s house?” 

“That can wait.”

“So you’re sticking around for Ushijima-san to come back? Wonderful.” 

Oikawa tilts his head back, groaning. “God no.” 

“Then what is it?” 

Looking back down at Harumi, he bites his lip a little. She’s not going to like this. 

“Our family has a private detective, right?” 

“Oh, goodness, Tooru, I don’t know what you think you’re planning, but-” 

Oikawa gives her the most pleading expression he can muster, taking her hands in his own before she can finish her sentence. “Please, please Harumi. Just tell me. I promise my father won’t find out. And if he does, then you had nothing to do with it. I swear to god this is important.” 

Harumi’s frozen for a moment. A sense of hopelessness creeps into her expression, probably because she knows Oikawa won’t back down until he gets what he wants. They both know she’s right about that. 

It only takes her a minute to close her eyes, let out a long sigh as she gives in faster than Oikawa expected. 

“I can give you his number. That’s all.” 

A smile breaks on Oikawa’s face. It’s a genuine smile, one that he’s never let an alpha see before, and he can see the corners of Harumi’s mouth twitching at the charisma he knows he’s dripping. “You are a _goddess_ , Harumi.” 

He starts to plant a kiss on her cheek, but she rolls her eyes, pushes him back. 

“Just tell me one thing, Tooru.” 

“Anything.” 

She takes a moment to search his face before parting her lips. “Does this have something to do with that alpha?” 

A chill racks his body at the mention of Iwaizumi. He considers lying, for no reason other than his reluctance to ever give a damn about an alpha no matter who he is, but he knows his scent must give him away based on the look on Harumi’s face. 

“...Maybe.” 

Harumi nods. “That makes me feel marginally better.” 

She has to dig around his father’s office for a few minutes to find the number, but his father is on a business trip abroad as usual, leaving their house empty aside from Oikawa and their staff. His mother is probably at her parents’ house, concealer on her bonding mark which she always wears when she’s not at home. What a lovely family. 

“Do you know his name?” Oikawa asks as Harumi passes him a sticky note. 

She shakes her head. “I’ve only seen him a couple times. I don’t think your father really needs a private detective more than he likes the idea of having one.”

“Not surprising.” 

“Well, I’m sure if you tell him your name, he’ll know who you are. Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid.” 

Oikawa feigns disgust at the thought alone, like he would _ever_ do something stupid, and Harumi gives his shoulder a playful flick. 

“If Ushijima shows up, tell him to go home!” The omega shouts as he makes his way up the stairs, picking up at his pace when Harumi yells back something about taking away his car if he doesn’t be quiet. 

He locks his door behind him once he’s in his bedroom, where he finds fresh sheets and scented candles lit on his vanity. He flops onto his bed, one arm tucked under his chest and his legs kicked up behind him with his phone in hand. 

His plan, if this can even be considered a plan, is definitely lacking in a lot of ways. But that phone call changes everything. 

It’s laughable, really, how dejected he felt the last few days, going so far as to question his own beauty, as if that could even be up for debate. Feeling unwanted, undesirable, his mind really can get ahead of himself sometimes, just like Suga has told him a million times before. And all it took were those words, those eight little words to rejuvenate him. 

_Why weren’t you at the car wash today?_

Oikawa drops his head into the crook of his elbow, suppressing giggles and a blush just thinking about it, the way those words rolled off Iwa’s tongue. Eight words and the omega’s worth exploded back into him. Silly! How ridiculous that he could ever forget how unmatched he is on this earth. 

To be fair, he was a little upset when the call ended without Iwa saying the magic words Oikawa had been counting on, but that’s just fine. The omega is patient. And this game isn’t over until he says it is. 

Harumi’s words nudged the back of his mind, too. Whatever she said about giving ten but expecting ninety from the alpha, that it wouldn’t hurt to try something different. Putting a little effort in isn’t _completely_ desperate, he reminds himself as he taps the number onto his phone, just enough to make himself more accessible for Iwa. At least, that’s how he interrupted what Harumi meant. 

And what better way to make himself more accessible than to visit Iwa himself?

“Hello?” A low voice answers on the last ring. 

“Hi! This is Oikawa Tooru. I was told if I called you that you would know who I am.” 

There’s a brief pause.

“...Oikawa? As in, from the Oikawa family?” 

“That would be me.”

Another pause, this time accompanied by the shuffling of papers. 

“What can I do for you this evening, Oikawa-san?” His voice is noticeably friendlier, the omega notices. Oikawa’s father must have paid him a lot. 

“May I ask who I’m speaking to first?” 

“Ah, my apologies.” He clears his throat, the sound of a smile on his lips. “It’s Kuroo Tetsurou. Private Investigator.” 

If he had any doubts before, Oikawa is now certain this Kuroo Tetsurou is an alpha. 

“Kuroo-san, how long would it take you to find someone’s address?” 

Kuroo hums. “That depends. But it would probably fall somewhere between five minutes and an hour.” 

Oikawa raises his eyebrows, a little shocked how quick he is. The omega has no complaints, though. 

“What information can you give me about him?” Kuroo goes on. “Then I can give you a definitive timetable.” 

“His name is Iwaizumi Hajime. He works at a gas station car wash near the city, but I don’t know the name of it. Umm, he has dark brown hair, almost black. Greenish eyes. Maybe 178, 179 centimeters? Does that help?” 

Kuroo laughs on the other end, although Oikawa can’t figure out why until the alpha says an address. “Iwaizumi Hajime. 179.3 centimeters. Born on June 10th. Alpha. Played volleyball back in high school and went on to study aerospace engineering in college. Now he’s a grad student working towards his doctorate. Apartment number 402. The building is a ten minute walk from the car wash he works at. Shifts on Wednesdays and Saturday from noon to five. Is that him, Oikawa-san?” 

Oikawa’s mouth drops open. Stunned.

“Wow.” He says. “I mean, yes, that’s him. That was incredibly fast.”

“Usually when people ask me to find someone, they don’t have a name. It only takes me a couple seconds to track someone down when I have one.”

“How often do people ask you to find someone?” 

“I’m afraid I have a strict confidentiality policy that prevents me from answering that.” Kuroo says, but there’s a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Oikawa could get along with this alpha. “Would you like me to text his address to this number?” 

“Yes, please! That would be perfect.” 

“All set. Is there anything else I can do for you, Oikawa-san?” 

Oikawa smiles at his screen as the address appears in his messages. 

“You’ve done plenty already, Kuroo-san,” the omega says, biting his bottom lip. “However, don’t be surprised if I reach out to you again.” 

Kuroo lets out a soft chuckle. “I look forward to it.”

* * *

Oikawa can’t remember the last time he left the house without Harumi asking where he’s going. This might be the first time. Instead, she just gives him the same look she always has whenever the omega’s wearing something with his scent glands deliciously exposed. A small wave of her hand is all he gets before she disappears outside, probably to the garden. 

It’s a good thing she doesn’t ask, too, because the omega hasn’t put a lot of thought into what he’s doing, and he might not follow through if he lets himself think about it. 

He turns up his music to block those thoughts once he’s situated in the driver’s seat, his seatbelt on and Iwa’s address in his GPS. The alpha’s probably home on a Thursday afternoon, right? He better be. 

Oikawa could barely sleep last night knowing he was going to Iwa’s apartment today. It’s sudden, he knows, but what better time than the day after their destined phone call? And this is his way of giving fifty rather than ten. That’s what he’s trying to do, at least, even if it comes dangerously close to hurting his pride. 

He takes a deep breath before pulling out of the garage. 

Despite missing several turns, accidentally running a couple stop signs, stopping to get iced coffee, Oikawa finds himself in Iwa’s neighborhood less than thirty minutes later. He knows his car stands out just from the looks passerbys give him, so he parks down a side street a few blocks from Iwa’s apartment. 

A couple alphas whistle at him as he walks, but that’s to be expected given his white dress shirt with the top four buttons undone, long enough to be worn as a dress tucked into skinny jeans that make his ass look amazing. Burnt orange heels click on the sidewalk, accentuate the muscles in his long legs. He’s dressed up for someone special today. 

And this is definitely the first time he’s dressed up for an alpha. 

But it’s different once he’s actually standing outside of the apartment building. Real, in a way that makes the omega pull up his collar to prevent anyone from smelling the unease in his pheromones. 

He’s never done anything like this before. Not to mention he hasn’t thought of an excuse for why he magically knows the alpha’s address, or why he decided to show up unannounced. Knowing what little he knows about Iwa, he’ll probably have security called on him. Is it supposed to be the thought that counts? Isn’t he giving fifty by just being there? What the fuck does giving fifty even mean?

Oikawa swallows, looks over his shoulders a few times, the faintest of whimpers in his throat. These are the kinds of thoughts he was avoiding all night. All morning. While he changed and did his makeup. 

His eyes land on a sign he can barely read up the street, advertising a convenience store. It’s probably just an excuse, but that seems like a good idea. He shouldn’t arrive empty-handed afterall. That’s the least he can do. But should he bring flowers? A card? Maybe he should go home and bake something. 

Excuses, excuses. 

He doesn’t let himself think anymore as he hurries into the store, down the nearest aisle until he gets to the back where ice cream sits in a sad freezer. The frost is thick enough that he can sort of see his reflection. 

_No. Don’t run away from this. Okay? You’re here now. You’re Oikawa fucking Tooru and you’re going to march right up to that alpha’s apartment and look like a goddam snack for him._

He doesn’t realize he’s mouthing his pep talk as he thinks it, his face scrunching in concentration, but an employee gives him a sideways glance. Slapping his palms into his cheeks, he decides the best way to psych himself up is with candy.

Iwa doesn’t need anything. He’s going to have _Oikawa fucking Tooru_ at his doorstep. 

“Uh.” 

Someone clears their throat behind the omega. He jerks his head up, turns around. 

“...Oikawa?”

Like a deer caught in headlights, all he can do is stare.

Iwaizumi. Here, of all places, in the same aisle as Oikawa. Iwaizumi. 

The alpha stares back at him with the same empty look, though he had known in the back of his head that Oikawa was here, somehow in some way. He had picked up on the hint of the omega’s scent when he stepped into the convenience store. 

Even though he didn’t believe it, he couldn’t help but follow his nose to the back of the store. Oikawa’s pheromones must be stronger than usual, probably because they vaguely remind the alpha of anxiety. Alphas always react to omegas in any sort of distress, and he’s even had that sort of reaction before, but… He suddenly wishes they weren’t in public. Somewhere isolated where he can calm and scent the omega properly. 

_Wait, what?_

Iwaizumi hasn’t thought about scenting an omega since high school. 

He blinks, starts to squeeze his hands into fists but stops when he remembers he’s carrying toothpaste. That’s why he’s here to begin with, because Sakusa asked him to get toothpaste. Iwaizumi didn’t mention the fact that he just bought three tubes less than a week ago; he doesn’t even want to know what the hell Sakusa did with it all. 

It takes a minute for Oikawa to loosen up. He straightens, pushes a few curls behind his ear and links his hands together in front of him. Iwaizumi notices that his head is slightly bowed so that his scent glands aren’t as exposed. He’s on edge, and it’s the alpha’s fault for coming up from behind him like that. Why does that make him feel so goddamn guilty?

And then his eyes start to wander to the omega’s collarbones, the curve of his hips, reminding him of the dream he had last night. He stops that train of thought before it can go any further. 

His hand finds the back of his neck. “What are you.. doing here?” 

Oikawa opens his mouth to say something, something sassy based on the glint that suddenly flashes in his eyes, but he falters. His lips fall shut. A blush that isn’t makeup fills his cheeks. 

Iwaizumi’s damn butterflies are back. 

“I was in the area.” Oikawa finally answers. 

He’s lacking his usual bite. Not in a bad way, but more like he’s trying to sound softer on purpose. 

“Yeah. I figured.”

“Mhm.” 

“What were you, uh, doing? In the area, I mean.”

“Oh. Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Driving.”

“Driving?”

“Yes. Just driving.”

“Ah.”

“Mhm.”

“Okay. That’s… that’s cool.”

Oikawa looks down at his fingers. Iwaizumi looks at Oikawa’s eyelashes.

“Excuse me?” 

They both whip their heads up at the employee speaking to them, a beta woman clutching a mop. Her face is noticeably red.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but… do you two think you could take this outside?” She says, embarrassed. 

Oikawa glances back at Iwaizumi, just as confused as the alpha is. Take this outside? What’s she talking about? 

“Are we disturbing anyone?” Oikawa puts a hand on his hip as he gives her the look he gave Iwaizumi the first time they met. His attitude is back in the slight sharpness of his voice, in the smile that definitely has something else behind it. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what the issue is.” 

There he is. The omega that Iwaizumi knows so well. 

“Well, it’s just, you see…” Her knuckles turn white as she grips the mop. “The… How do I put this, the scent? Your pheromones … They’re strong, and it’s disrupting other customers. I have to ask you to step outside. I’m sorry.” 

Just like she said, Iwaizumi realizes there are a few people giving them sour looks as they pass the aisle, their conspicuously empty aisle aside from this beta. He isn’t sure what to do or say, still unsure of what she’s evening talking about, but it’s a good thing Oikawa’s there.

The omega pulls his purse higher on his arm, reaches back to wrap his hand around Iwaizumi’s. His skin burns a thousand degrees at the contact. Every nerve, muscle, every instinct in his head rejoices at the feeling of the omega’s hand intertwined with his own, even if this isn’t how he imagined it happening. He doesn’t have time to be embarrassed about how giddy he feels before Oikawa’s tugging him. 

“I’m so sorry. We’ll leave right away.” Oikawa smiles, and then they’re hurrying to the front of the store, Iwaizumi tossing some cash at the register before they burst outside. 

“What the-” The alpha shakes his head just as Oikawa starts to laugh. They’re in the parking lot now, under afternoon sunlight and a breeze that smells like gasoline and dessert. “What the _hell_ just happened?” 

Oikawa covers his mouth with his hand. “Please tell me you’re not that oblivious, Iwa.” 

“What? What are you talking about?”

“The scent! God, the pheromones. It smelled like senior prom in there, like we were about to fuck right then. You couldn’t tell?” 

“N-No? I didn’t- I didn’t even notice.” 

Oikawa’s laughter dies down enough for him to sigh, give Iwaizumi a teasing look. “I swear to god, all alphas share a single brain cell.” 

“That’s… embarrassing, I guess. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, it was my scent, too. I think it was just the way they mixed. That can happen sometimes, if an alpha and omega have compatible scents. It can overwhelm everyone else when they mix.” Oikawa explains. The alpha has no idea how he knows this.

“Oh. I- I didn’t know that.”

“Obviously not.” 

It’s only now that he notices they’re still holding hands. Oikawa’s skin is softer than he imagined. How is that possible?

Neither of them talk, and neither of them let go. 

They watch cars pull in and out of the parking lot, maneuver around each other in the street, birds perched on street lamps. 

_So you’re gonna ask him out?_

Matsukawa’s voice worms its way into Iwaizumi’s head at some point as they stand there. Maybe the timing isn’t what he planned, but it’s not like any of _this_ was planned. Oikawa Tooru could never be planned. Fuck it. 

“Oikawa.”

The omega perks up. “Iwa?”

_Fuck it._

“Let me take you out to dinner. Tomorrow night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> iwaoi really out here mutually piningand i wouldn’t have it any other way 💖 i love these boys with my whole heart oh my gosh, i can’t wait to keep writing!! :,)) in other news, it was my birthday last week and i got a haikyuu tattoo!! (it's the bokuaka owls bc i love them to pieces)  
> thank you so much for the support and comments and kudos, all of it means a lot to me. seriously, your comments make my day 🥺🥺  
> update will be up within the week, let me know what you think, and i love you!! :D


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> babes look at this adorable fanart [lizzydane15](https://lizzydane15.tumblr.com/post/630629174727606272/sassy-omega-oikawa-is-what-we-love-in-this) made ahh!! :D i love this and i love her, please go give them love and affection  
> >:(

It’s unusual to find a glass window as flawless as this one. Without a smudge. 

Ushijima doesn’t see any smudges. He looks for smudges, eyes drifting over the expanse of the shop window under early afternoon sunlight. He can’t find any smudges. 

Smooth, untouched glass. 

He presses a finger against it lightly. Dull lines of his fingerprint remain as he pulls away. 

He raises his other hand, planting his whole palm on the glass. It’s cold, despite the sun. 

Distracted by the chill on his skin, the firmness of the glass pushing back against him, he doesn’t notice the hand on the opposite side of the window. 

When he does, he looks up. 

And he doesn’t pull his hand away, not when his eyes meet the person on the other side of the glass, hands indirectly pressed together.

Crimson-brown. 

Ushijima feels a hint of pink swirl up into his cheeks. He doesn’t know why it does, or why the glass suddenly feels warm under his palm. 

The omega inside cocks his head a little, and the corners of his mouth rise into a high smile. Through this clear glass, Ushijima can see his smile well. 

He stares for an extra second or two before stepping into the chocolate shop itself, the empty shop aside from display cases and this redhead omega Ushijima remembers. 

“Good afternoon!” The omega announces, melody in his voice. He hooks his thumbs into the front of his apron as he gives a slight bow of his head towards the alpha. 

Tendou, his nametag reminds Ushijima. Though he already knew that.

“Good afternoon.” Ushijima says. 

“Was everything okay with the window?”

“The window?” The alpha furrows his eyebrows somewhat. “I didn’t see anything wrong. Why?” 

“You were standing out there for at least ten minutes. I assumed there must have been a crack or something.”

“Oh… Right.” Pink finds his heated face again. 

Ushijima isn’t sure how he came to be outside the chocolate shop again. He was going somewhere, but he forgets where he was supposed to be. His feet brought him here, instead. 

Before getting distracted by the glass, the glass without a smudge, he was brainstorming reasons for why he might be here, at this little chocolate shop for the second time this week. Maybe it was because one of Oikawa’s attendants (Harumi, he remembers) called to tell the alpha that Oikawa had thoroughly enjoyed the chocolates he dropped off on Wednesday evening, after Oikawa’s incident of sorts. Maybe his feet decided he should get Oikawa some more. 

Or maybe it has something to do with the color of this omega’s hair that he hasn’t been able to get out of his head. Bright red.

“There was nothing wrong. I was just admiring how clean it is.” 

Ushijima knows that’s an odd thing to say, but the omega is unphased, even seems to perk up rather than give him the judgemental look he was expecting. 

“You think so? Well I’m glad _someone_ noticed my hard work.”

“Do you clean them?”

“Yes! This is my shop, after all. I don’t have much help aside from myself.” 

“I see.”

“I remember you from the day before yesterday, don’t I?” Tendou heads behind the counter. “I’m happy to see your back so soon for more. Right?” 

The alpha’s gaze briefly wanders to the curve between the omega’s neck and shoulder. “Yes, that’s… that it.” It’s clothed, of course, because most omegas know to cover that part of their neck unlike Oikawa. Though it’s not like he needs to see to confirm what he knows, that Tendou has the telltale scent of an unmarked omega. 

Ushijima raises his eyes to see Tendou still smiling at him. 

The alpha coughs softly into the back of his hand. It’s rude to stare at an omega’s scent glands like that. He doesn’t know why he did. 

“Can I get an arrangement this time?” He asks. 

“Ah, yes, yes, yes. You certainly can. Just point out which chocolates you would like to include, and how many.”

“The largest size you have.”

“Oh? That would be a bouquet. Would you like to do that?”

“Yes, that sounds good.” Ushijima looks over to the display case. It’s as overwhelming to look at as it was the first time he came two days ago. “Which do you recommend?” 

Tendou leans over the counter, peering at the selection. He’s close enough that Ushijima sees flecks of gold in his eyes. “You got raspberry truffles last time. Would you like the same type this time?” 

“You remember.” 

“I was the one who recommended them.” Tendou starts tapping away at the computer beside the cash register. “You said they were for a classy omega with a streak of arrogance. That screams raspberry truffle to me. Is this bouquet for the same omega, then?” 

“Oh. Yes, it is.” 

“Hm,” the omega looks up from the computer, at the chalkboard hanging above them with more chocolates than Ushijima thought could possibly exist. “How about a bouquet of chocolate strawberries? Milk, dark, and white chocolate. That sounds like something they would like.” 

Ushijima ponders that for a moment. Chocolate strawberries. Oikawa Tooru. Chocolate strawberries and Oikawa Tooru. He blinks. 

“I think he would like that.”

Tendou hums, types something else. “Perfect. Is that all?”

“Yes.”

Ushijima pays with his card as Tendou writes down Oikawa’s address for the delivery later today. The delivery in two hours, in fact, which is apparently very expensive based on the look Tendou gives him even though money is oxygen to the alpha. He worries about Tendou finding out about that, though. He’s never thought about hiding it with anyone before, so he can’t think of a reason why this omega is different. 

For whatever reason, he is. 

Ushijima stands for a moment longer, watching Tendou’s slim fingers wrapped around a pen as he writes something on a clipboard. It occurs to the alpha that he can leave now, but his feet decide they aren’t ready to go yet. But again, Tendou isn’t phased by it. 

“Ushijima-san? That’s your name?” The omega looks up from his clipboard a moment later. 

“Hm? Yes. How did you-”

The omega holds up a scrap of paper. “The receipt.”

“Ah. That’s right, Tendou-san.”

It’s the omega’s turn to look somewhat confused. “...How did you-”

“The nametag.” Ushijima nods toward it. 

“Oh!” Tendou smiles, his eyes crinkling. “I forgot I’m wearing one. I always do that.” 

The alpha finds himself fixated on Tendou’s eyelashes. They look black, but there’s a hint of burgundy in them, too. 

“Well, Ushijma-san, I don’t mean to pry, but I wanted to ask. Is this omega your husband?” Tendou’s eyes flit to Ushijima’s left hand, the silver ring on his finger. 

“Fiancé, actually.” Ushijima, direct as ever, lifts his hand so the ring shines under the shop lights. “This is just a promise ring.” 

The alpha leaves out the fact that Oikawa flipped him off, flushed the ring down the toilet when Ushijima presented them to him, but Ushijima still wears his almost every day. 

“Oh, I see, I see.” Tendou nods. “Tell him I send good wishes for you two. And that he’s lucky.” 

“Lucky?”

“Very lucky.”

“Why?”

“He’s engaged to you.” 

Ushijima leaves the shop a few minutes later, his feet having finally released him to head back to his car up the street. As he passes other shops, other windows, he notices how smudged all of the glass looks, and he wonders if Oikawa is lucky. He wonders why Tendou would think so.

* * *

“How about this?” Oikawa sings, throwing his closet door open with a flourish.

Suga is not impressed. He shifts his weight onto one foot, crosses his arms and pouts with a raised eyebrow. “Please tell me you’re joking.” 

“What? Really?” Oikawa whips around to look at the mirror on his wall, at loose-fitting pants and a lavender sweater that covers his scent glands. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Okay, so you’re not joking.” Suga reaches behind him for his glass on Oikawa’s vanity, pouring more white wine from the bottle. “First of all, those pants do absolutely nothing for your ass. They swallow you up. In a bad way.” 

Oikawa bites his lip as he turns and hikes his sweater up to see. He starts to tell Suga that he must be blind, that his ass looks fabulous in whatever he wears, but he presses his lips together when he notices what the other omega means. His ass is nonexistent in these pants. He shudders.

“Second of all, it’s summer. You’ll burn up in that sweater. But I do like the color. Don’t you have a different light purple top?” 

“It’s called _lavender_ , Koushi.” Oikawa fluffs his hair in the mirror before getting his own wine glass from his vanity, popping open a new bottle because Suga just finished the other. “And, I know it’s summer! But I wanted something to cover my neck. Something that isn’t hideous like all those turtlenecks my dad bought for me, which are ugly as fuck. If I showed up in one of those, Iwa would get up and leave on the spot, I swear to god.” 

“You could show up in an outfit so hideous that his eyes bleed and I still don’t think he would leave. You two held fucking _hands,_ Tooru.” 

Oikawa’s about to take a sip but jerks the glass away from his lips. “Shut up! I definitely should not have told you that.” 

“I’m your best friend so you’re morally obligated to tell me everything.”

“Morally?”

Suga’s expression seems to say _you feel the same way_ , and he’s not wrong. 

“God,” Suga drops his chin into his hand. “It’s like you’re starring in a shoujo manga.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Going to his apartment? Getting cold feet before you can knock on his door? But then magically running into him at a convenience store? Oh, stop, this couldn’t be anymore cliche and you know it, Oikawa Tooru.” 

“Coincidence.”

“True mates.”

“ _Shut up._ ” 

They rip each other to pieces with their eyes alone. And then they break into giggles.

“What’s up with covering your scent glands, though?” Suga smiles against the rim of his glass. “You haven’t covered up a single day since I’ve known you.” 

“This is uncharted territory.” Oikawa sets his glass down, starts to pull his sweater off his head and slip out of his pants. “I’ve never been on a date like this before.” 

“Bitch, you’ve been on a thousand dates. Why is this one special? Because it’s with your true mate?” 

“What did I say about that phrase, Koushi!” Oikawa snaps, exasperated as he glares at the other omega. “This one’s different because I’ve never put so much effort into fucking an alpha as I have with Iwa. Especially an alpha who plays hard-to-get as much as he does. He’s so fucking difficult, _god_!” Oikawa throws his head back with a groan. “The very least I can do is deny him my beautiful, pristine, unmarked neck. I still refuse to wear patches, however.” He holds up two skirts, considers them for a moment but puts them back on their hangers. “Anyway. So. I’m going for classy with a hint of sluttiness, but enough modesty to make him curious. Does that make sense? I swear, I’m going crazy, Koushi. When’s the last time I put this much effort into a stupid dinner date?” 

Suga sighs, taking another sip as he joins Oikawa in the closet. “Two words, babe.”

“Don’t you dare.” 

“Now, now. Shoo.” Suga waves him away with his free hand but smiles. “Let me see…” He holds out his wine glass for Oikawa to hold, and then he cracks his knuckles as he starts going through every piece of fabric in Oikawa’s closet. All Oikawa can do is pout, sneak sips of Suga’s drink while he watches the other omega put together potential outfits with clothes he didn’t even know he had. 

This is usually what ends up happening when Oikawa has something planned, with Suga coming over with wine and honesty and the common sense Oikawa wouldn’t have survived high school (or any part of his life) without. 

A brisk knock on Oikawa’s bedroom door pulls their attention up, though. 

“Tooru!” Harumi calls out. “There’s a gift from Ushijima-san here for you!” 

Suga and Oikawa stare at each other. They’re paralyzed, until Suga widens his eyes at Oikawa, wordlessly urging him to go see what it is. Oikawa only shakes his head, color draining from his face. 

“ _The wine._ ” Oikawa squeaks. “ _If Harumi finds out I’ve been drinking all afternoon, she’ll kill me._ ” 

“ _Shit_.” 

“ _I know._ ”

As quietly as they can, the omegas scramble to hide the wine bottles behind Oikawa’s shoes in his closet, although they clink together in Oikawa’s arms and he feels years evaporate off his lifespan. 

“Tooru? What are you two doing in there?” 

“Nothing!” Oikawa replies, but Suga glares at him. “Ah, um, getting ready! One minute!” Suga shoves him out of the closet, returning to the important matter of finding the omega something to wear, and Oikawa only has a moment to compose himself before cracking his door. Harumi narrows her eyes at Oikawa’s suspiciously innocent smile. 

“What did you do?” 

Oikawa just bats his eyelashes. “Me? What could you possibly be talking about, Harumi-san?” 

She tries to cuff the omega’s ear, but he jerks back quick enough to avoid it. 

“Let me in _now,_ Tooru.” Harumi seethes, digging her foot into the door until Oikawa relents, lets it fall open all the way. With one hand on her hips, the other hugs a… vase? 

“Why aren’t you wearing anything?”

Oikawa crosses his arms defensively. “Koushi’s picking out my outfit.” 

“Good afternoon, Harumi-san!” Suga startles Oikawa as he comes up behind him, an array of clothes hung over his arm. “Hm? What’s that?”

Harumi’s attitude seems to soften at the sight of Suga. His smile, his disgustingly perfect politeness make Oikawa’s eyes roll, but Harumi can’t help but smile back warmly. 

“It’s always nice to see you Sugawara-san. These are from Ushijima-san, specially delivered for Tooru. Isn’t that kind?” 

And like a flip is switched, her expression falls into something sharp and threatening as she looks back at Oikawa. Suga is just as bitchy as he is, why can’t she see that? He sighs.

“Didn’t he already get me chocolates this week?”

“Yes, he did, but you were locked in your bedroom when he brought them for you. You have yet to even look at them, I might add.” 

“That was like, two days ago.” Oikawa sighs again, leaning his head onto Suga’s shoulder. “He’s so desperate, it’s gross.” 

“He probably brought more because I told him you loved the chocolates he gave you. A lie, I might also add.”

“You could have been honest!” 

“Oh my god, I love chocolate strawberries.” Suga blurts. He has one pressed against his lips, red juice dribbling down his chin that almost stains his shirt if Oikawa hadn’t stopped it with his finger. Neither he nor Harumi noticed when Suga had plucked one from the bouquet. “Mmm, white chocolate! Your favorite kind, Tooru.” 

Oikawa finds himself licking his lips, because white chocolate is food of the gods to him, but he bites down on his tongue. “Like I would ever eat something Ushijima-san gave me.” 

“Then can I have them? Daichi loves the milk chocolate ones.” 

“Do whatever you want. Just get them out of my house please.” 

Harumi passes the vase into Suga’s free hand, but of course, it’s followed by another scowl in Oikawa’s direction. 

“When Ushijima-san calls to ask if you liked them, I’ll let you tell him how you gave them away yourself then.” 

“Hm, maybe lying isn’t so bad after all.” Oikawa winks, and then he shuts the door with a blown kiss before Harumi can punish him. 

As he retreats to his closet to change, Suga sets the vase on Oikawa’s vanity, plops into his desk chair and crosses his legs. “Are you sure I can have these? They must have been expensive.”

“And? Ushijima is one of the richest alphas in Japan.” 

“Don’t forget you’re one of the richest omegas.” 

“My father’s money is different from whatever figure Ushijima makes on his own,” Oikawa hums. 

“Yes,” Suga pops another into his mouth, a dark chocolate one. “But you know what I mean.” His favorite. 

Ten minutes drenched in anticipation pass as Oikawa tries on the outfit Suga picked out for him, bewildered by how the omega could possibly look at _this_ shirt and _these_ pants and decide they go together. He should know by now to trust Suga, though, because soft gasps escape them both once Oikawa steps in front of the mirror.

“ _Oh…_ ” Oikawa blushes. 

Lavender, a softer shade than his sweater, on a blouse that hugs his torso but loosens around his arms, cuts off at his elbows. The neck is high but only enough to cover his scent glands, a ribbon woven into the collar that drapes over his chest. These pants, loose in the right places and tight in the right places, give his ass more of a curve than the omega actually has. He hasn’t worn these black dress shoes in months. They’re more comfortable than he remembers. And sexy. 

Suga presses his tongue against another strawberry, looking smugly at his work. “There we go.”

“Koushi, this is _perfect._ ” Oikawa spins in the mirror, taking in as much of himself as he can. “Holy fuck, you’re amazing.”

“I know, I know.”

“I do not deserve you.”

“Of course you don’t.” 

“He’s going to propose on the spot.” 

Oikawa’s too infatuated with the way his legs look to notice how Suga’s mouth twitches into a frown at that. And when he turns in search of more validation, he feels his heart sink a little with the look Suga is giving him. A look that means he’s about to hear something he doesn’t want to hear. 

“Hey. Tooru.”

“What? Don’t look at me like that.” 

“Does Iwa know about Ushijima?” 

Ah. That.

Oikawa’s mouth feels dry. He thought he had more time before his stupidly rational best friend brought up this topic. 

“No.” Oikawa looks back at the mirror. He brushes a curl out of his forehead. “Why should he?” 

“Well,” Sugaware begins. “I didn’t bring it up before because I assumed this was another phase-”

“It _is_ a phase-”

“Quiet. Let me finish.” Suga stops him, not oblivious of the way Oikawa’s reflection is red with frustration. “You have your fun, then you can’t remember their name a week later. Like I said, I assumed Iwaizumi was more of the same. I thought that, until you started talking about this alpha _every single day_. Calling me, texting me, ranting over coffee about the same alpha over and over and over again, Tooru. And you have never done that before.”

Oikawa refuses to look at Suga’s eyes. He can’t think of anything to say back. 

“I’m not saying this is a bad thing, babe.” Suga stands up, joins Oikawa in front of the mirror and rubs gentle massages into his shoulders as he talks. “I’m more than happy that you’ve found someone who is making you have actual, real, human emotions, even if you haven’t realized that yourself yet. But I wouldn’t be your best friend if I didn’t mention how this is sort of a problem since you’re engaged. To Ushijima. And your father definitely wouldn’t let you marry an alpha who works at a car wash.”

It’s beyond tempting to tune out everything Suga’s saying. He’s been doing that to his own thoughts lately, hasn’t he? Stupidly rational thoughts that whisper the same concerns that Suga has. He wishes they would shut up. 

Moments like these make Oikawa hate being an omega. 

“You don’t... you didn’t have to tell me that, Koushi.” He says. 

“I know.” Suga squeezes his shoulders. “But I wanted to. Now, let’s get your makeup done.” 

Sitting at his vanity, going numb to the feeling of brushes and creams on his skin, Oikawa’s mind wanders. To his father, to Ushijima, to Iwaizumi. 

Making up excuses has always come easily to him.

_Iwaizumi is a phase._

_Only a few weeks._

_Nothing serious._

_One night._

_Just for fun._

_Iwaizumi is a game._

These excuses don’t feel as good as they usually do, though. 

Suga brushes mascara against his lower lashes, and he tells himself that this is a problem for the future. 

He’ll deal with it later. 

He will.

* * *

“So, why exactly did you want me to wear all black..?” Daichi asks as Suga throws the passenger door open, climbs into his seat with chocolate strawberries secure in his arms. “And what are those?” 

The omega just sighs, struggling to balance them in his lap while trying to fasten his seatbelt. Daichi ends up doing it for him, always the gentlemen. As he leans back, Suga thrusts a strawberry into his mouth.

“Wha-” He flinches, but when he bites down, his surprise morphs into happiness pretty quickly. Suga cups his hand under Daichi’s chin to catch the pink juice that dribbles down, and he wipes some chocolate off the corner of the alpha’s mouth, too. He licks it off his finger. 

Even in the twilight, in the dim light of Suga’s driveway, he can see how much Daichi’s eyes widen. 

“C-Chocolate strawberries.” Daichi stutters, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping away excess juice but really just trying to hide his blush. Suga knows him too well. 

“Mhm.” Suga smirks, relishing in how he’s been in the alpha’s car for less than three minutes and already has him around his finger. He picks another from the bouquet. “Ushijima bought them for Tooru, but you know how he is, so he gave them to me instead. And now, I’m giving them to you.” 

He tries to feed Daichi again, but the alpha takes the strawberry out of his hands before he can, eating the whole thing in one bite. Daichi grins like it’s something to be proud of. 

“Well,” he chews, wipes his hands on his pants. “I love chocolate strawberries, but I gotta say I feel bad for Ushijima. When your eyes are set on a specific omega, it’s hard to let go. He’s doing his best.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you.” Suga teases. 

“That I would.” 

Daichi chuckles to himself as he places a soft hand under Suga’s cheek, pulling him into a kiss, a gentle kiss with just a hint of attitude. With the alpha’s hand squeezing his jaw in just the right place, Suga feels his mouth pop open enough for Daichi’s tongue to slide against his own. He tastes chocolate. 

The omega already feels himself slipping, unable to stop himself from inhaling Daichi’s scent, letting himself fall limp against the seat, the smallest of whines spilling into the alpha’s mouth in a way that Oikawa would mock him for. 

From the outside, Suga _appears_ to have better self control than Oikawa. 

But the two of them know that isn’t remotely true.

He might not be as flirtatious as Oikawa, not as dangerously confident as he is, but when he’s too close for comfort with an alpha, it’s like he becomes a different person. That’s what Oikawa tells him, at least. He sort of likes giving in. It’s the omega in him, he knows, and unlike Oikawa, his walls aren’t so unnecessarily high. 

Besides, it’s not his fault that Daichi’s thighs should be illegal. The way he acts so stoic, so perfect every damn day, but ravages Suga without the concept of shame, with pheromones that cloud the omega’s mind with sin. That should be illegal, too. 

Daichi roughens up a bit as he forces his tongue deeper into Suga’s mouth, elicits another noise like a whimper. Suga’s legs unconsciously spread at the feeling of slick starting to leak out of him. The chocolates almost fall, but somehow Daichi catches it with the hand that isn’t coaxing Suga’s jaw open. 

Suga wouldn’t have it any other way. All of it. 

“W-Wait, Daichi,” Suga manages to say a few minutes later, very precious minutes that they don’t have time to waste. 

“Hm?” Daichi leans back to look into Suga's bleary eyes. 

“We… We have to go.” 

“Do we now?” 

Suga blinks slowly, finding the energy to nod and pull himself up. 

“And why’s that?” 

Daichi strokes Suga’s beauty mark. The omega leans into his touch. 

“The reservation,” Suga clears his throat. “Tooru’s reservation was for 7. So…” He peeks over Daichi’s shoulder, at the time blinking on his dashboard. “It’s 7:15 now. We should get there around... 7:30? 7:35? That’s perfect.” 

He gives the alpha a quick peck on the cheek before pushing him back into his seat, guiding his hand onto the wheel. 

“Wait,” Daichi shakes his head, lines of confusion wrinkling his forehead. “What’s this about Oikawa’s reservation? I thought you and I were getting dinner together? Alone?”

“We are! We just happen to be...multitasking.” 

“Multi-tasking? Hold on, you mean you want to spy on Oikawa’s date?” 

Suga raises an eyebrow. “We’re best friends. That’s what best friends do.” 

“They do?” 

“You’re an alpha, I don’t expect you to understand. Now drive.” 

“Koushi, I don’t know if this is a good idea.” 

“Good idea, bad idea, it’s all relative.” Suga waves his hand dismissively. “All I’m asking is for you to take your boyfriend on a date, and if we happen to see Tooru, then wouldn’t that be a nice coincidence?” 

“Koushi…” 

“Oh, come on. Don’t you want to know what this Iwaizumi looks like? Plus, I want your honest opinion on him, as an alpha.”

“I don’t know…”

“They won’t even see us! That’s why we’re wearing black, so that we’ll blend in.” Suga gestures to his own outfit, a black hoodie and black skinny jeans as if to emphasize his point. “Please, Daichi?”

Daichi still doesn’t look convinced, but he can’t exactly say no to the way Suga’s looking at him, begging with the same eyes he uses when he’s kneeling in front of the alpha. So he sighs, turns the keys in the ignition, fights a smile at the joyful giggle Suga lets out as they pull out of his driveway. 

“Where to?” 

Suga types an address into Daichi’s phone. “Just follow the GPS.” 

Like the omega said they would, they arrive outside the restaurant at 7:32, although Suga insists they park in a garage up the street just to be safe. He also insists that Daichi stay close so he can take cover behind the newspaper Suga brought for this reason. 

“This place is packed,” Daichi whispers as they squeeze past a line out the door, wait for the hostess to gather their menus. Good thing Suga got a reservation the moment he got off the phone with Oikawa last night. 

It’s a nice place, definitely high-end with an attentive waitstaff and the type of food Suga is served at home, although he can’t help but wonder what Oikawa thinks of it. It seems a little cheap for his taste, even if some of the appetizers cost more than jewelry. 

Suga is too occupied scanning the restaurant for Oikawa to think about that, however. When he spots him in the back, tucked away from the bar in a quiet spot, he jerks the newspaper up to cover his face. 

“Hide!” He whispers to Daichi, who does his best to duck behind the omega.

“Um…” A moment barely passes before the hostess is clearing her throat, though, gesturing them to follow her. “Right this way please.” 

She leads them back towards the area where Oikawa and a man are seated, a man who Suga can’t see because his back is facing them. Suga grips Daichi’s wrist in the hand that isn’t shielding their faces with the newspaper as the hostess asks if this table is okay. It’s close to Oikawa, but not too close. Suga nods. 

As they sit down, the omega exchanges the newspaper for a menu. Daichi follows his lead.

“Okay, okay.” Suga whispers, even though Oikawa couldn’t hear him even if he were speaking normally. “You look first. Is he hot? Pretty? Cute? What’s he like? Is he talking?” 

“Uh…” Daichi turns his head slightly, but he immediately jerks back behind his menu.

“What’s wrong?” 

_“We’re busted.”_ Daichi says through his teeth. _“Oikawa is looking over here.”_

_“Fuck. Are you serious?”_

_“I’m very serious.”_

_“Shit.”_ Suga buries his face into his menu even more, desperately willing himself to turn invisible. _“Are you sure he recognizes us?”_

_“Pretty sure. He looks… frazzled.”_

_“Frazzled?”_

_“I don’t know, I guess so?”_

_“Oh my god.” Suga’s forehead drops onto the table. “Why aren’t we blending in?”_

_“I think wearing all black makes us stand out more than anything.”_

_“Seriously?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Dammit.”_

Daichi risks another glance at Oikawa’s table, at the man who he assumes is Iwaizumi, but he looks away again when he realizes they’re both staring at them now. He needs a beer.

* * *

Iwaizumi swallows, shifts in his seat as he watches that dark-haired alpha doing a shitty job of trying to sneak glances. It’s the second time he’s done that. Iwaizumi probably wouldn’t have noticed if Oikawa’s entire body language hadn’t changed when the couple sat down, though.

“Uh, Oikawa?” Iwaizumi chews his lip, waves a hand in front of the omega’s (furiously red) face. “Do you know those people?” 

“No,” The omega says, even though he’s very obviously making faces at the table, trying to get their attention. 

“Seriously? The alpha frowns. It’s a statement more than a question. “I don’t believe-”

Their waiter interrupts him by setting down a basket with silk and wine, the wine, which Oikawa ordered without so much as a blink, but just looking at the label, Iwaizumi can’t help but pat his wallet in his back pocket protectively, lick his dry lips. “Your food will be out shortly.” 

He’s going to need a few extra shifts to cover this meal alone. 

Oikawa brings his attention back forward only to give the server a faker smile than usual. He’s reaching for the wine, pouring it and thrusting the glass to his lips before Iwaizumi has a chance to blink. 

“Should I go ahead and add another bottle to the tab?” Their waiter says, a soft laugh behind his words. Their waiter, with poorly-dyed blonde hair and no discernable scent (probably the result of patches), who Iwaizumi didn’t really pay attention to until now. He might’ve said his name is Miya..? 

There’s something weirdly backhanded about the way he says it, but Iwaizumi doesn’t really give it a second thought until he watches Oikawa’s smile falter at those words, if only for a split second. The omega’s been moody since he arrived at the restaurant late, and this isn’t helping. 

“If I want another bottle, then I’ll order one.” Oikawa says curtly. 

“Ah.” Their server smiles. “Of course.” 

Iwaizumi can’t help but see a resemblance. Not physically, but in the way their smiles hold the same hint of a threat. He takes a big gulp of ice water. 

“You can get us more bread, however.” Oikawa says. ”Please and thank you.” 

“Of course. That will be extra, just so you know.” 

“I’m aware. People typically pay for food at restaurants, don’t they?” 

Iwaizumi nearly chokes. 

He doesn’t know why he’s surprised by the nerve of this omega, not after everything he’s seen. Seeing the narrowed-eye look Miya gives him makes Iwaizumi feel slightly better about Oikawa’s attitude, at least. 

Oikawa’s as irritating as ever tonight. And Iwaizumi can’t figure out why it’s so damn endearing. 

As their server leaves to get bread, Iwaizumi finds himself hoping that ‘extra’ isn’t too much extra. Oikawa, on the other hand, has a flustered glare locked on that table again, except one of the men is glaring right back at him now, a man with silver hair and eyes so soft they have to belong to an omega. 

Iwaizumi looks from him to Oikawa, back to him, back to Oikawa. There’s a resemblance here, too.

The alpha folds his hands in front of him on the table, starts to clear his throat and say, “Did you-”

“I’m- Iwa, I’m sorry,” Oikawa blurts. “Can you- just, stay here? Just for one second. I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll- Just one second.” And then he throws back some more wine, bunches his napkin on the table, hurries towards the back of the restaurant with his fingers digging into his palms. 

Barely a few seconds pass before the soft-eyed omega at the other table heads in the same direction. He doesn’t do a good job of hiding the look he gives Iwaizumi as he passes, not a critical look but more like he’s… rating him? 

Iwaizumi sits there for a minute, stares at a painting hanging on the wall without really looking at it. He isn’t sure what else to do. 

Of all the scenarios he brainstormed over the last twenty-four hours, Oikawa bringing his best friend along didn’t cross his mind. That’s what this has to be, right? But maybe not, because he’s not sure Oikawa is good enough of an actor to pretend to act as shocked as he did when that couple arrived. Well, maybe he is. 

The alpha runs his hand across his hair for the fortieth, probably fiftieth time this evening. 

How many goddamn times does he have to tell himself not to listen to Matsukawa? 

That’s why they’re here, on this incredibly awkward date which definitely doesn’t feel like a date. He’s not sure what it feels like. They aren’t friends, but they’re not dating, and there’s a lack of communication on what the hell they’re even doing. 

They held hands. Once. And it wasn’t even holding hands, because Oikawa was just dragging him outside and they happened to not let go for a few minutes. And Iwaizumi just happened to have a wet dream about the omega. And they just happened to have spent a lot of time together at the car wash over the last month. And his scent just happens to make Iwaizumi feel like he’s going to lose his shit whenever he gets too close. 

Okay, so that’s why they’re here. 

He had planned on getting to know Oikawa, though, more than what he’s seen by chance, whatever it is that’s behind his obnoxious flirting and horniness. He’s sure every other alpha on this earth looks at Oikawa with purely physical interest, but Iwaizumi doesn’t want to be like that. He wants to know him. Isn’t that what first dates are for? 

Oikawa’s acting differently than he usually does, at the very least. He’s hiding his neck for one thing, which Iwaizumi’s sort of disappointed about even though he shouldn’t be, but the rest of the omega’s outfit makes up for it. He’s not objectifying him, he isn’t, it’s just an added bonus he won’t ignore. 

Oikawa’s beautiful. Iwaizumi has no complaints about that. 

Suddenly the sound of chairs scraping, bumping against his table, it yanks Iwaizumi’s gaze away from the painting he wasn’t really looking at, and now there are two strangers on either side of him, laughing their asses off as they fumble with chairs and slip into them.

_Who the fuck?_

“Uh, can I help you..?” He immediately pushes away from the table, his instincts telling him to go find the omega for some reason, but one of them grabs his wrist before he can stand up.

“Dude, _chill,_ it’s just me.” The stranger laughs some more, and then he’s pulling a cheap wig off his head and tucking glasses into his pocket. 

Iwaizumi squints. 

_“Matsukawa?_ ” 

“Who else?” He raises an eyebrow, smirks. “I can’t believe you fell for these disguises, man. Makki, I love you more every day.” 

Hanamaki, apparently the man across from him takes off his own wig, removes a scarf from around his neck as he shrugs. “Did you ever doubt me, babe?” 

“Of course not.” 

They fistbump and there’s a weird sexual energy around it. 

“Okay, _what the actual fuck?”_ Iwaizumi keeps his voice low even though he doesn’t need to, grinding his teeth. “What the fuck are you two doing here?” 

“In our defense,” they say simultaneously, looking at Iwaizumi with identical expressions, and then at each other.

“You first, babe.” Matsukawa lifts a hand in Hanamaki’s direction. 

“Of course, babe.” Hanamaki smiles before turning back to Iwaizumi. This is fucking insane. “Mattsun has been telling me all about this omega you won’t shut up about, and I was interested.” He shrugs again. “Good for you, by the way. He’s a hottie. Not as hot as Mattsun, but definitely up there.”

“Told you.” Matsukawa sighs. “And I was just going to say that if you didn’t want us to come, then why’d you text me the time _and_ place? I mean, come on.”

“Come _on_ ,” Hanamaki mimics. 

Iwaizumi shakes his head, opens his mouth, shuts it, opens it again. “I- You- Matsukawa, you were literally the one who told me to ask him out. Of course I told you, that’s not- but that wasn’t an invitation for you to come fucking crash it.” 

“Um, we’re not crashing anything.” Matsukawa corrects him. “In fact, we’re _saving_ you.” 

Hanamaki nods. “Definitely saving you.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about? Please, just - just leave.” Iwaizumi seethes. He definitely doesn’t want Oikawa coming back to _this._

“We will. But you’re crashing and burning over here, Iwaizumi. It’s sad.” 

“We’ve only been here for twenty minutes. Yeah, sure, it’s slow, but again, only _twenty minutes.”_

“You haven’t complimented him once.” Hanamaki says. “He’s begging for some kind of validation. Can’t you tell?”

“I guarantee he can’t tell.” Matsukawa answers before Iwaizumi can. 

“Oikawa isn’t the type of person you compliment. It goes straight to his head.”

“And? You’re on a fucking date, dude. That’s what you do.”

Iwaizumi crosses his arms, his thin patience on the verge of snapping. “It didn’t feel right, okay? He’s in a weird mood to begin with. I can’t read him when he’s like this. Alright? Now can you leave?” 

“Why do you think he’s in a bad mood?” Matsukawa asks, but he’s looking at Hanamaki. 

Hanamaki sighs. “Probably because Iwaizumi hasn’t complimented him yet.” 

“Probably.”

“Most likely.” 

Thank god Iwaizumi’s nearing his rut with senses heightened, because he catches a whiff of Oikawa’s pheromones in the air conditioning. He’s coming back. 

“Go, go, go, leave, get out. _Now.”_ Iwaizumi seethes, shoving Matsukawa out of his chair. “If he sees you, I swear... _”_

“Okay, okay, we’re going.” Matsukawa and Hanamaki stand up quickly, thank god for that. But before they retreat to their seats a few tables away (really, how didn’t Iwaizumi notice?), Matsukawa is pulling something out of his pocket. A napkin with something written on it. 

The alpha has enough time to realize it’s a list of fucking icebreakers and then Oikawa’s storming back into the dining room. 

Oh. He doesn’t look happy. 

“Oikaw-” 

“Iwa, we’re leaving.” The omega announces, grabbing Iwaizumi’s arm and forcing him up. “I’m sorry. We’ll go somewhere else, alright?” 

Iwaizumi can barely process what’s happening as Oikawa swings his purse over his shoulder, tugs on the alpha to follow him to the front of the restaurant. He can sort of smell anger in the omega’s scent, but anxiety, too. That’s enough to get himself under control. 

“What- Wait, why? What happened?” 

“We’ll talk about it outside.” Oikawa snaps. “And those two,” he adds loudly, except he’s pointing at the other omega’s table and shouting across the room to their server as he says, “those two will be taking care of our bill. Please and thank you!” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t argue as Oikawa whisks him outside. 

They make it halfway up the street, away from the Friday night crowds and noise and lights, before the omega finally stops. Both of them are breathing hard. And he doesn’t let go of Iwaizumi’s arm. 

“Oikawa?” Iwaizumi asks, careful to keep his voice gentle. Oikawa might not admit it, but the alpha’s instincts are telling him he’s still anxious. “Everything okay?” 

The omega takes a few more moments to gather himself, hugging his purse closer because it keeps slipping off his shoulder. He straightens as he looks at Iwaizumi. 

Taking a deep breath in, he closes his eyes. 

_Probably because Iwaizumi hasn’t complimented him yet._

Oh, god.

Iwaizumi holds a hand up, blurting, “Wait!”

Oikawa eyes fly open. He stares at the alpha like he’s seeing him for the first time all evening. It’s an odd look.

“What?” 

Iwaizumi said he wouldn’t listen to Matsukawa anymore. He won’t. 

“Ah, um,” the alpha clears his throat. “You... You look beautiful tonight.” 

Oikawa doesn’t react. 

He’s surprised, maybe, but other than that, absolutely nothing. 

Oikawa just stares. 

_Fuck you, Matsukawa._

“Of course I do, Iwa.” He says, but it’s then that Iwaizumi realizes he’s fighting back a smile, holding his hands to stop them from quivering. “What makes you say that? Am I that gorgeous to you? You really think so?” 

_I tried to fucking tell them._

“No. I mean, yes. But I mean-”

“Iwa!” Oikawa bursts, giggles pouring out of him. “Ah, I knew it. I knew you couldn’t resist me, right?” 

“Okay, okay, just- forget it.” Iwaizumi hates how seeing Oikawa likes this makes his stomach turn. Turn like butterflies. “What were you going to say?” 

Oikawa’s ego dissipates into a small smile as he composes himself, faces Iwaizumi again, breathes in. The alpha has a sinking suspicion that this is going to come back to bite him in the future. He really has to stop trusting Matsukawa. 

And then, Oikawa finally says it. 

“I lied.” 

Big surprise. It’s still nice to hear the words, though. 

“I did know those people.” Oikawa goes on. “That was my best friend, Sugawara Koushi. Not that he’s still my best friend after tonight, but, still. He was with his fiancé, Sawamura Daichi. They… Well, Koushi is sort of a nosy bitch, but I guess it’s my fault for telling him about tonight to begin with.” His shoulders tighten and release with a sigh. “But, please don’t think I asked him to come. I was just as surprised as you were.” He squeezes Iwaizumi’s wrist as he talks, but the alpha doesn’t mind. 

He wouldn’t mind if Oikawa held onto his wrist all night. 

This is the first time he’s seen the omega vulnerable like this. He knows it won’t last, but for now, it’s nice. Really, really nice.

“To be honest, I considered it. That maybe you asked your friend or someone to come spy on us.” He smirks. “Maybe spy isn’t the right word, but you know what I mean. It’s a dangerous world for omegas, I would understand even if you did ask him to come look out for you.” 

There are too many shadows to be sure, but Iwaizumi thinks Oikawa blushes at that.

“Oh.”

“Actually,” Iwaizumi goes on, trying to ignore the impulse to brush a rogue curl behind Oikawa’s ear, and _shit_ , that’s a new feeling. “Matsukawa- my coworker at the car wash, you know him- he sort of… did his own spying.”

Oikawa’s mouth falls open. “Really?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I had the same reaction. Fucking bastard.”

“Wait, so…” Oikawa smiles, and he unconsciously pushes that rogue curl back on his own. Iwaizumi doesn’t know why that’s disappointing. “You were talking about me?” 

And he’s back. 

“Yeah, no shit.” Iwaizumi says. “You were, too.”

“That’s different. Now tell me, what were you saying about me?” His grasp loosens around Iwaizumi’s arm, but only to snake up a little until he’s holding the alpha’s bicep, rubbing his thumb against muscle, and he has that immobilizing smile on his lips to make things worse. A breeze blows the tease of his scent into Iwaizumi’s senses. 

He almost tells Oikawa about his dream.

_Change the goddamn subject._

“Shut up, Oikawa. We haven’t eaten yet.” Iwaizumi says, doing his best to sound as pissed as he feels. He’s not necessarily pissed _at_ Oikawa, but more so pissed about how he makes him feel, and how the omega just says things like that. Does things like that, with his hand on Iwaizumi’s arm. Has he done that with other alphas? Other alphas aren’t as respectful as Iwaizumi, what if-

If he’s starting to get protective of Oikawa, that’s a bad sign. 

A really, really bad sign. 

Oikawa doesn’t press him on it, but he pouts as he says, “Iwa! Don’t be mean.” 

Iwaizumi ignores him. “What do you want to eat?”

“Hmmm… You choose, Iwa-chan!” 

Iwaizumi’s brain stops working for a minute. 

“Iwa… Iwa-chan?” 

“Yes. What do you want to eat?”

Iwaizumi hasn’t been this irritated in his life. “There’s a, uh, there’s a ramen place that I go to sometimes. Nearby. It’s good. I think you’d like it.” And he loves it. “Unless it’s too cheap for your tastes.” He adds sarcastically, but he’s not being sarcastic. 

“I’m not the spoiled, rich asshole you think I am, you know.” Oikawa humphs. 

Even though Iwaizumi doubts that, he starts off in the direction of this ramen place, an inkling of excitement in his step. He wants to see how Oikawa will react. This is a test, he decides. 

Oikawa seems to pass at first, when he sees this scrappy building run into the ground with no visible repulsion to it. He still seems fine when they head down stairs leading into a cramped building that feels cozy to Iwaizumi but is probably the grossest place the omega has been in his life. He stays close to Iwaizumi, though. 

Iwaizumi assumes it’s because of the building they’re in. He assumes. 

This meal is much more affordable than what they were going to have, so there’s that, and he’s sort of glad it worked out this way as they take their ramen back onto the sidewalk, to a well-lit park nearby and Oikawa has his first bite.

“Oh my _god,”_ He gasps. “This is fucking amazing!” He tips the bowl back against his mouth, shoveling a bigger mouthful. 

Omegas are known for having exceptional table manners. Especially wealthy omegas, who receive special tutoring well into their twenties that cover everything from biology to domestic life to being a “good omega,” outdated shit that Iwaizumi doesn’t particularly care for even if his instincts do. He’s sort of glad to find out that Oikawa is an exception to the table manners rule. 

“You like it? I knew you would.” Iwaizumi smiles, glancing at the omega as he slurps his own. 

“Yes! God, I can’t believe I haven’t had this before! I can feel my pores clogging, it’s so deliciously unhealthy.”

“Hey.” Iwaizumi glares, but Oikawa’s just teasing. 

“I’m never allowed to eat like this. The only things I’m served are salads and vitamins, and smoothies on a good day.” 

“Served..?”

“Mhm.” Oikawa hums nonchalantly. 

In spite of his clothes and cars and disregard for money, Iwaizumi still has to remind himself that Oikawa is rich. More than rich. It’s odd to think about, as a grad student who gets by on car wash tips and work study programs, with a roommate he found online. 

“What’s it like?” Iwaizumi finds himself asking.

Oikawa cocks his head, takes another bite. “What d’you mean?” 

“Having more money than you know what to do with.” 

He worries that he might have offended the omega with the pause that follows, but Oikawa was only chewing. 

“It’s how I’ve lived my entire life, so I have nothing to compare it to. But despite what you may think, I don’t like flaunting it.”

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow. “You’re right, that is what I think.” 

“Why? Because of my cars?”

“Well, yeah.”

“I hate driving those fucking cars,” Oikawa drops his head back, setting his bowl in his lap. “I feel like such a douchebag.”

“You might feel that way, but it’s not the worst thing.” Iwaizumi sets his bowl down, too. “At least you have million dollar cars, unlike the rest of us.” 

“It’s not-” Oikawa starts like he’s going to argue, but he meets Iwaizumi’s eye and deflates. “I.. I know.” 

_Hm. So he actually knows his privilege._

They finish their ramen in silence. Iwaizumi was too focused on Oikawa’s first cheapo ramen experience to pay attention to where they actually are, this specific park doused in starlight more than that of streetlamps. The only other person around is a woman on another bench as she talks on the phone. It’s warm, and their bench is even warmer after sitting out in the sun all day, but not unbearable with a soft breeze that rustles through Oikawa’s hair. 

His hair… it looks soft like this. 

Iwaizumi offers to take his and Oikawa’s bowls to a trash can, and when he comes back, he sits down closer to the omega than he was before. If Oikawa notices, he doesn’t say. He’s staring above them, somewhere. 

Iwaizumi’s eyes trail from the omega’s hair, down the soft skin of his cheeks, to his lips, where he notices a speck of something on the corner of his mouth. Those bad table manners. 

He doesn’t know what comes over him as he brings his thumb to Oikawa’s chin.

“Iwa? What- what are...” Oikawa flutters at the touch. His eyes widen, turn a light shade of brown in this lighting. Pink dusts his cheeks, his lips, the tip of his nose. 

Iwaizumi likes how one touch is all it takes. A fingertip on his cheek. 

Something in the back of his mind asks what Oikawa would look like with _more_. 

“You, sorry, you had something.” He blinks. “I forgot to get napkins, but you’re all set. I got it.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“Don’t eat so fast next time.” Iwaizumi adds. His finger is still ghosting the curve of Oikawa’s jaw. “You could choke.” 

A sound in Oikawa’s throat, barely loud enough for Iwaizumi to pick up on and gone before he can process what it was. The beginnings of a purr, maybe. 

“Okay. I won’t.”

“Good.”

At some point, Iwaizumi’s hands find his pockets and Oikawa’s tangle in his lap. They’re both looking up now, at stars that rarely show themselves. 

“Iwa.” 

“Yeah?”

“You promised you would tell me about stars. Remember?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“Tell me about them.”

Iwaizumi’s left hand, the hand closest to Oikawa, slides out of his pocket. 

“What do you want to know?” 

“Your favorite. Which one’s your favorite.” 

“Hm.” 

Oikawa’s right hand, the hand closest to Iwaizumi, falls out of his lap. 

“Or your favorite constellation.”

“My favorite constellation. That’s a tough one.”

“It is?”

“Definitely.” 

Their pinkies brush against one other. 

“Choose one.”

Iwaizami’s hand rests on top of Oikawa’s.

“Cygnus.”

Oikawa’s hand rolls over, intertwining their fingers. 

“Which one is that?” 

“There. The swan.” 

“...It doesn’t really look like a swan, does it?”

“Use your imagination.”

“I’m trying!”

And then, somehow, it’s a quarter past midnight. Iwaizumi insists he walk Oikawa back to his car, parked back on the same street as the restaurant, and once they get there, the omega insists he drive Iwaizumi back to his apartment. Oikawa plays his favorite playlist on the way, even though it’s a five minute drive and Iwaizumi almost breaks the omega’s phone trying to get it to stop, and would Oikawa _please_ shut the fuck up because people can’t sleep when he’s singing out the window like that. 

Iwaizumi hates to admit he’s having fun. 

He’s having so much fun that when Oikawa parks outside his building, climbs into the backseat, complains that he doesn’t want to go home yet, Iwaizumi just sighs and gets back there with him. 

And then, somehow, it’s past one in the morning. Oikawa explains some embarrassing high school story about Suga, but his words are slurred with exhaustion, and Iwaizumi isn’t paying attention as he fights the droop of his eyelids. 

Iwaizumi’s just so comfortable. These million dollar seats are comfier than his shitty twin-mattress, and this whole car smells like Oikawa. Like sweet, sweet omega. Oikawa’s body is warm, close to his.

And then, somehow, Iwaizumi’s eyes are falling shut, too heavy to fight, the pull of sleep too tempting to resist. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oikawa sees atsumu and it’s on sight 👁👄👁  
> anyway,,, we love dumb bitch suga, babie ushi, and iwa-chan's space obsession in this home 💖💖 dhhwhxbsb i really hope this chapter was okay 🥺 i worked really hard on it, but idk how i feel about this one. more than anything i just hope you babes enjoyed it :)) this fic is keeping me going through this school year ahh, it’s such a stress reliever to write omegaverse iwaoi after a long day yknow?  
> ~update up within the week! ily! 
> 
> (( for those of you who were asking to see my tattoo, [here she is](https://undercookeddaichi.tumblr.com/post/630667704541528064/my-haikyuu-bokuaka-tattoo-bc-idk-how-to-use-ao3) !! the left is bokuto, the right is akaashi. my friend designed it for me :D imagine recognizing me in public because of my tattoo and thinking “omg that’s the person who wrote that iwaoi omegeverse fic on ao3” ))


	8. Chapter 8

Heat.

Pressure.

Slow, at first. 

Enveloping. Seeping into skin, the folds of clothing, clenched palms. 

A gentle thrum, almost tangible as it builds in air heavy enough to suffocate, drench any and every crevice it forces its way into, smothering and sweating and crushing. Shivering that makes the soul want to leave the body. 

When did it get so hot?

His throat hurts as Iwaizumi tries to swallow nothing but dry heat. The only moisture he’s vaguely aware of is perspiration gathering around his hairline, his spine, his chest. His hands pull gruffly at his shirt while his legs kick out, trying to push his covers off. 

With his eyes squeezed shut, there’s more red behind his eyelids than black. Just the idea of opening them hurts, so Iwaizumi doesn’t try to, even when his foot strikes something hard that shouldn’t be near his mattress. He adjusts again, gripping his pants which feel so goddamn tight, turning his head because he must have slept on his neck wrong with how stiff it feels. 

Something tickles his nose in this new position. 

He groans, and then he breathes in.

Iwaizumi’s eyes fly open, painfully open as morning light pierces his vision. He’s not in bed, not under his covers like he thought, but he’s in someone’s car, and breathing in again, he’s reminded of whose car it is. This disgustingly sweet smell of cherry attacks his senses, electrifies his body as it travels straight to his dick. A gutteral sound blooms from his throat. 

Oikawa, nuzzled beneath Iwaizumi’s arms, is still asleep. With his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulders, his hair a delicate scent of pumpkin, of cherries teasing Iwaizumi’s nose. 

He knows he should yank his arm away, shove the omega to the other side of the seat, get the fuck out of here as fast as he can. Because he’s on his rut, if his pulsing dick is any indication, and he’s in the backseat of an omega’s car. 

That’s probably the reason his body is locked in place, though. It takes the last shred of his self-restraint to stop himself from forcing Oikawa onto his stomach, ripping his clothes off, fucking him right here and now in the middle of the fucking city. Like hell he would even entertain that idea. 

If only it was his choice. 

If only Oikawa wasn’t like _this,_ asleep and vulnerable and pressed so close to the alpha that breathing has become a dangerous thing, even if his glands are covered up. 

They didn’t fall asleep like this.

Iwaizumi barely remembers anything from getting back to the omega’s car last night, but he knows they didn’t fall asleep like this. They couldn’t have. He wouldn’t have let that happen.

Then again, he wouldn’t have let himself fall asleep in Oikawa’s car, either, but here they are, and here he is, parked outside of his apartment building where-

Iwaizumi looks out the window. He tries to blink the blur from his eyes, cursing himself, cursing Oikawa for being the reason he’s in this position, but at least he doesn’t see anyone on the street. It’s still early, he’s lucky for that. 

But not lucky enough. 

“...Iwa?” Oikawa mumbles, drifting awake. 

The omega scrunches his nose, lets his eyes flutter open ever so slightly, and whether he means to or not, presses deeper into Iwaizumi’s side. 

Giving into the anger Iwaizumi suddenly feels is better than thinking about how Oikawa’s lips would feel under his thumb, so he lets himself become furious. Enraged. Beyond pissed that this omega thought it was a good idea to fall asleep with an alpha he barely knows, looking so goddamn helpless like that. It’s dangerous. It’s nothing but stupid. Shouldn’t he know that much? 

But his anger abruptly changes direction, sicking itself on the world rather than Oikawa. This world where Oikawa has to even think about these things, just because alphas can get away with not knowing the concept of self-control. 

Iwaizumi fucking hates it. He hates it more than anything he’s ever hated. 

A snarl rips out of Iwaizumi’s throat, only the most animalistic of instincts controlling his clouded mind as he pulls Oikawa closer. 

“Iwa?” 

The thought of another alpha touching Oikawa, of another alpha looking at Oikawa, another alpha _thinking_ about Oikawa, those thoughts alone make his blood fucking boil. Even if this isn’t like him, because Iwaizumi Hajime is _not_ a possessive alpha, and he’s nothing like the stereotypes, and he fully believes omegas should do whatever they want, when they want… 

Even if this isn’t like him, the only semblance of a thought in his mind declares that Oikawa is _his_. All he wants is Oikawa. More than earth, more than water, more than air itself, Iwaizumi only wants Oikawa to be his. 

“I-Iwa…? What are…”

It’s his rut. 

That’s what this is. 

It’s just his rut. 

A pheromone high making his instincts act up, and goddamnit, he needs to get the hell out of here. 

“Iwa!” Oikawa snaps. 

It’s enough to bring him back to his senses, senses that are too hazy to work correctly, but enough that he realizes his mouth is pressed to Oikawa’s scent glands, his hand keeping the omega’s throat in place. 

Iwaizumi didn’t bite him, but he must’ve been thinking about it. 

A mortifying thought. 

But even still, even as he drops his hand and releases his hold on Oikawa, his nose remains above the omega’s scent glands. Like a magnetic pull, his body refuse to pull away from this abundance of scent, this threat of claiming, too tempting, too easy. Iwaizumi can _smell_ how pliable Oikawa is. 

He may be giving the alpha an apprehensive look, but his neck is tilted for Iwaizumi, his body limp against the seat. Iwaizumi knows this is just how omegas are around alphas in rut, but that doesn’t change the effect it has on him. 

“Your rut...” Oikawa breathes. “Your rut started?” 

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi grits his teeth. “It did.”

“Shouldn’t you have- Didn’t you know? That it would be coming soon?” 

“I did know. But I- I had more time. I should’ve had a few more days. Sleeping next to you must’ve triggered it early.”

“Ah.” 

For a moment, there’s only the sound of strained breathing. The feeling of thick heat beneath Iwaizumi’s skin. And then Oikawa’s pushing him back with feeble hands, hands that tremble as he takes a deep breath against his own sleeve. Iwaizumi knows his scent must be overwhelming right now. 

Another reason why he wishes someone would drag him out of the car. 

“Okay… Okay. Let’s- We shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves,” Oikawa tries to sound unbothered, maybe even a little flirty knowing him, but his voice shakes. 

Iwaizumi fucked up. He swallows, curses himself for letting this happen, for making Oikawa deal with this, even if Iwaizumi pretends like he doesn’t care.

He does care. 

It might just be his rut, but he does care.

But then Oikawa clears his throat and says, “I would prefer not to do this in the car, but there’s a hotel nearby I can drive us to. I can cover the expenses, just- just give me some time to work out my schedule, and birth control, and-”

“Wait, _”_ Iwaizumi’s vision is splattered with black shadows now, his rut worsening with every conscious moment of being _beside_ an omega but not _inside_ an omega making his body feel all sorts of weird ways. But he’s not so far gone as to misunderstand what the omega’s saying. Even if it doesn’t make any goddamn sense. 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Oikawa knits his eyebrows. 

“I’m talking about your rut obviously.” 

“What- What do you mean by- by a hotel? Birth control? I don’t…” Iwaizumi shakes his head, swallows because it’s getting harder to breathe the omega’s scent. It’s sweeter, somehow. 

“You want to fuck me through your rut, don’t you?” 

_Shit,_ Iwaizumi really wishes Oikawa hadn’t put it like that. Another wave of shivers wrack his body, make his dick twitch, plaster blasphemous fantasies of his knot catching in Oikawa’s ass across what little consciousness he has left. He grinds his teeth together to keep his hands to himself. 

“Have you ever been with an alpha during a rut?” 

“A couple times.” Oikawa blinks, like this should be obvious. 

“Oh… I don’t know- I don’t know why I thought you wouldn’t have. That seems like an intimate thing, I guess?” 

“Maybe. I didn’t have much choice in the matter.”

Iwaizumi’s pupils dilate to a color darker than black. 

“What do you mean?” 

“My father is rich because he has connections. He’ll do whatever it takes to solidify those connections, or make more. Like if someone he wants to do business with has an alpha son in rut, sending an omega over is like an offering.”

“Your father… let random alphas fuck you?” Iwaizumi’s voice doesn’t sound right. “During their rut? For a fucking business deal?” It’s raspy, how he sounds when he wakes up from a hangover, lethal in a way. The omega instinctively hunches his shoulders, just a little. 

“It wasn’t so bad.” Oikawa says quickly, but there’s something like doubt behind his words, a hint of unease in his scent as Iwaizumi risks another breath. “Alphas are easy in that state, I just bend over and spread my legs and look pretty. I handled it. I’m used to handling those types of things.” 

“But you shouldn’t have to.”

“I…”

Oikawa doesn’t finish his sentence. 

“I’m sorry,” Iwaizumi shakes his head as he runs clumsy hands over his pockets, just coherent enough to know forgetting his phone or wallet would suck. “I’m sorry you had to deal with _this_ so early in the morning. It- It won’t happen again. I’ll text you. I’ll text you, I don’t know when, but I’ll remember to at some point.” He turns to fumble with the car door. “Get home safe. Drive safe. Make sure you-”

And then he shoves the door open but Oikawa’s car alarm explodes in their ears, and Iwaizumi nearly falls onto the street trying to cover his ears because it’s so goddamn _loud._

“Oh my god, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Oikawa cries out, leaning into the front seat, searching for his keys in a panic. “My car- My car alarm goes off if you try to open one of the doors from the inside when it’s locked, god, I don’t even fucking- I don’t fucking know why, it’s so stupid, goddamnit, _I’m so sorry,”_ he blabbers. 

Each honk shatters Iwaizumi’s eardrums, ricochets down the street like thunder, louder than thunder with his senses so acute at the beginning of his rut. He doesn’t want to think about how many people are being awoken in his apartment building. 

_God, please not Sakusa._

“I’ve got this!” Oikawa shouts at him, alarm still blaring. “C-Call me if you need me, okay? And make sure you jerk off while thinking about me! Have fun~!” 

Of course he had to include something like that. 

Iwaizumi doesn’t waste any time punching in his pin to get inside the building, bolting to the stairs because he doesn’t think he could wait for an elevator, miraculously finding the right key on his first try as he shoves it into his door. 

Sakusa is waiting for him. 

He’s kneeling at their dining table, coffee in hand, already showered and dressed. Iwaizumi forgot he wakes up at 4 some days to go jogging. After ten months, how did Iwaizumi forget that? And what time is it? 

Sakusa starts to say something while Iwaizumi struggles to slide on his slippers in their genkan, but he shuts his mouth almost immediately. His nose crinkles, eyes tightening into a glare. His forehead scrunches into the most unpleasant expression Iwaizumi’s ever seen him make. 

Sakusa not-so-subtly presses the back of his hand against his nose. 

“Your rut started.” He says simply. Viscerally disgusted. 

“Yeah.”

“I wish you would’ve warned me.” 

“I would have if I could.” Iwaizumi dumps a handful of ice into a cup, fills it with water. “It came early.”

“Hm. I assume the car you slept in belongs to an omega then. I hope you remember my rule about no omegas in the apartment.”

Iwaizumi squeezes his cup as he downs the whole thing, although it barely does anything to stop the heat lapping beneath his skin. He really doesn’t have the patience for this conversation right now. 

“Yeah. It was. But we’re not together, and yeah, yes, I remember, he didn’t come inside.” 

“Okay.” 

“I’ll be in my room for the next few days.” Iwaizumi fills his cup, and another one because he knows he’ll need it. “You know the drill.” 

“Remember to shower. You smell like omega.”

Iwaizumi assumes he smells much worse than just omega, but he nods. “Yeah. I will, of course.”

“I’ll go to a hotel. Don’t make a mess, but I’ll thoroughly disinfect everything when I come back. I won’t do your laundry.”

“Wouldn’t expect you to.” Iwaizumi sucks in a breath, the hardness of his dick starting to make him light-headed. “S-Sounds good.” 

Sakusa did that last time, eight months ago when Iwaizumi had his first rut as his roommate. He disappeared for a week, then spent forty-eight hours scrubbing the apartment down afterwards. 

Sakusa hasn’t had his rut yet. Iwaizumi assumes he’s just one of those alphas who doesn’t get them that often, or maybe Iwaizumi gets them more often than usual. 

Setting his water on his bedside table, ripping everything but his briefs off, it’s relieving in itself but only momentarily before his attention is back to his dick. A mass of nerves, leaking and throbbing like he’s never had a rut before. He hurries into the bathroom. It springs up against his stomach as he pulls his underwear off and steps under a cold shower. 

He leans his forearm against the tile, resting his forehead into his arm. His other hand clenches around his dick, like it’ll be for the next few days, and as he starts fucking into his palm with uneven movements, groans softly between his teeth, the first of many unsatisfying orgasms starting to wash over him, he thinks of Oikawa. 

Oikawa. 

* * *

“Omi-Omi!” 

Atsumu drops his voice to an enthusiastic whisper, so he’s at least conscious of the fact that they’re in a public library. Still, an employee shushes him. Well-deserved. 

“Watcha looking for today?” He asks, softer as he steps beside Sakusa, mindlessly looks over a few of the titles but doesn’t pick anything up because his hands are full with two coffees. 

“Something light. I’m spending this week at a hotel.” 

“Oh?” Atsumu shifts a little closer to him. No one else would think anything of it. Sakusa, however, does. “Roommate problems?” 

“Rut problems. Essentially the same thing.”

“Hmm.”

Sakusa adjusts his mask, picks up a book that he’s been meaning to reread. “What?”

“Ah. Nothing.” 

“It’s never nothing with you.” 

“What’s in the bag?” Atsumu cocks his head at the backpack around Sakusa’s shoulders, not trying to hide the fact that he’s changing the subject. “Don’t tell me that’s all your taking with you to the hotel. Is there really a week’s worth of stuff in that?” 

“Obviously not. My suitcase is over by that table.” Sakusa raises his eyes in its direction. “Only my toiletries are in this one. The suitcase has my clothes, a change of sheets, and my pillow.” He resumes reading the author’s note he didn’t look at the first time he read through this one.

“You only need two bags? That seems unlike you, Omi-kun.” 

Atsumu smiles at him. 

Sakusa glares at him. 

“Well,” The omega sighs, shifting further from Sakusa, back to where he had been a moment ago. “Let me know when you’re ready to go to the park.” And again, only Sakusa would acknowledge something as insignificant. 

It’s a game. 

Sakusa doesn’t know what to compare it to, but Atsumu plays a game of boundaries on mornings like these. One step closer, one step away. A flutter of his eyelashes and then lack thereof until Sakusa finds himself peeking at Atsumu over his mask, curious. Giving Sakusa a few text-free days of space, and then surprising him at the library.

In both a good and bad way, this isn’t the first time Atsumu has done this. A little more than a month ago was the first time, when Sakusa felt panic tug his throat when he heard that annoying nickname ring through the library, his safe place, a church. Atsumu was apologetic, at least, not that it changed anything. Sakusa was surprised when he found himself forgiving the omega almost immediately. Not aloud but to himself. That isn’t something Sakusa does easily.

Atsumu didn’t stop surprising him with morning coffee in the library. He sticks to a schedule that Sakusa picked up on, though. Tuesdays and Saturdays. Not every Tuesday and not every Saturday, but frequently enough that Sakusa has built-up apprehension on these mornings to avoid being surprised if the omega does show up. 

A kind of conditioning, maybe. Testing the water with a fingertip or an arm depending on the day. An attempt to loosen Sakusa up without him realizing. Although he does realize it. It irritates him, teases a line the alpha didn’t realize was there until recently, but Atsumu retains enough respect for it to be sort of enchanting. 

Sakusa hasn’t tried to stop him. 

“I’m alone this week, too.” Atsumu murmurs as he follows Sakusa to the table. “Samu and Rin are traveling.”

Sakusa sets his backpack down, pulls out his wallet. “Where?” 

“Kobe.” 

“That’s far.” The alpha pulls out his library card. “You’re from Kobe, aren’t you?” 

“Yep. Me and Samu. I’m surprised you remember, Omi-kun.” 

“It’s not hard to remember.”

“I’m just glad to have the place to myself for once. D’you know what Samu did last week?”

“No.”

“I put takeout in the fridge for when I got home from work, and even though I put my initials on the boxes, he ate all of it. There was plenty of stuff in the fridge, but he just had to eat mine. He always eats my leftovers. It’s like I don’t actually own anything in our apartment.” 

Sakusa’s glad his mask covers his smirk, not that he feels bad for laughing (he has a sneaking suspicion that’s a lie). Regardless, Osamu sounds like someone he could get along with. 

“Try tape next time.” 

“Like that would stop him.”

Leaving Atsumu to watch his things, smile and drink a caramel iced coffee disturbingly fast, Sakusa checks out his books. He keeps his nose tilted down to avoid the librarian’s scent. An omega. She’ll have her heat within the month. 

Other people can’t tell when an omega will go into heat from everyday pheromones alone. 

It’s unheard of. 

Sakusa really wishes he wasn’t the exception to that rule. 

“Ready?” Atsumu asks, extending Sakusa’s drink to him as he hurries back, slips his books into his bag. 

Sakusa nods. He wants to get out of here quickly, that irrelevant omega’s scent spiking his blood with a chill he would like nothing more than to never feel again, for no other reason than he’s an alpha. 

Leaving with Atsumu is calming in a way. The assurance of seeing patches on Atsumu’s neck, that Sakusa doesn’t have to worry about his pheromones at the very least, doesn’t have to worry about his judgement. One person out of billions. It’s enough for Sakusa. 

“How was your week?” Atsumu asks. 

This is calming, as well. This small talk of theirs. Sakusa doesn’t understand people who loathe small talk, which is ironic because he loathes it, too, unless it’s Atsumu. Small talk and Atsumu is therapy, in a way. 

“The same. Work, tutoring, essays.” He pulls his mask down on the street, steaming coffee stinging lips with his first sip. Unadulterated caffeine. “Have you started your new job?” 

“Last week. I finally found a place hiring omegas. The restaurant is around here actually, maybe a fifteen minute walk that way.” Atsumu nods his head behind them. 

“You’re just a waiter, right?"

“Don’t say ‘just,’ Omi-Omi. It’s a lot of damn work, and I’m the only omega.” He glares at Sakusa, but he’s pouting, too, and it occurs to Sakusa that he only pouts like that when he’s with the alpha. It’s almost cute. Sakusa isn’t sure how to feel about that. “The customers are the worst part. They’re so entitled, especially the alphas when I’m their server. Not that the omegas are better.”

“That’s the restaurant industry. I don’t know what you expected.” 

“Omi-kun!” Atsumu pouts again. “Shut up.” 

Atsumu leads the way once they’re in sight of the park, to the shady bench nuzzled beneath a tree they usually sit on. It’s still early enough that the air is warm, but not too warm. Still cool enough that Sakusa’s coffee isn’t irrationally hot to be drinking.

Atsumu’s cup is empty, or about to be empty, so he tosses it in the trashcan near their bench. 

Sakusa isn’t oblivious to how he sits down audaciously close, rests his hand beside him, palm up. He always does this. 

“Some people gave your suitcase a weird look on the way here.” Atsumu says.

“I assume I’m the only one walking around with a week’s worth of clothing.” 

From the corner of his eye, Sakusa knows Atsumu is watching him. Closely. 

“Is this your first time staying at a hotel during your roommate’s rut?”

“No. Iwaizumi had his soon after we moved in together, so I did the same thing then. I would rather do anything than be in the same apartment as that.”

Atsumu’s forehead creases at something he said.

“Iwaizumi? Like Iwa-chan?”

“Iwa-chan?” Sakusa narrows his eyes, repulsed by such a nickname especially coming from Atsumu. “I guess he could be called that.”

Atsumu sits up, eyes bright, fixated on something in his head that Sakusa can’t figure out. 

“What does he look like?” 

“Why do you want to know?”

“Just tell me.”

“No.”

“Omi-Omi!” 

Atsumu’s eyebrows slant as he leans forward just slightly, just barely. He must know what that does to Sakusa already. Or maybe he doesn’t. 

“He has spiky black hair. And he’s shorter than both of us. Muscular. Green eyes.”

“Holy shit.”

“What?” 

“He was at the restaurant last night.” Atsumu insists, another centimeter closer to the alpha. “That’s why I recognize that name, because I overheard his omega say it.”

Sakusa stiffens. “ _His_ omega?” 

“It was pretty obvious he was on a date.” 

“Iwaizumi isn’t bonded. And he isn’t seeing anyone.” 

Atsumu’s pout gives way to a neutral expression, tainted by a smirk in his eyes. Sakusa knows this look of his well. 

“I don’t mean to jump to conclusions, but your roommate might be lying to you.” 

“He wouldn’t.”

But remembering the scene from this morning, he doesn’t believe himself. Iwaizumi, asleep in a stranger’s car when Sakusa went out for his jog at 4:30, an omega curled under his arm, lacking any sense of privacy. 

“Well, assuming they are dating, Iwaizumi has bad taste.” Atsumu rests back against the bench. “The omega was unnecessarily rude. I couldn’t believe his nerve. Not to mention he dragged Iwaizumi out before their food came out and forced this other couple to pick up the bill. Made a whole show out of it, too.” 

Sakusa doesn’t realize he's squeezing his coffee until some of it leaks down the side of his cup, burns his fingers. A quick breath. Blink. He sets his coffee on the ground and pulls some wipes out of his back pocket. 

“I never said my roommate can’t date. I only said he can’t bring omegas inside. So long as that’s the case, Iwaizumi can court who he wants. It’s no one’s business other than his.” 

“Hmm.”

“Just say it.” 

“..You don’t really believe that, do you.” 

Sakusa avoids Atsumu’s probing gaze. Discretion, another benefit of the mask.

“Iwaizumi seems happy. I saw him… cuddling, with the omega this morning.” 

He makes a face at the word, uncomfortable with how it feels, how it tastes in his mouth. _Cuddling._ Ugh.

“Oh? I thought omegas weren’t allowed in your apartment.”

“Like I said, they aren’t. I saw them outside.”

“Outside.”

“In a car. It must have been the omega’s car since Iwaizumi doesn’t have one, as far as I know.”

“Cuddling? This morning?”

“Yes, if you didn’t understand me the first time.” 

Sakusa watches Atsumu, expecting some sarcasm or a scowl in his direction. But something like an alarm goes off in Sakusa’s instincts when he sees Atsumu deflate instead. Not overtly, but enough that it’s unlike him. Crossed arms, pale cheeks, avoiding Sakusa’s eyes. Unlike him. 

“Atsumu.”

He looks up. 

“There’s something you want to say.” Sakusa says. “What is it?” 

The omega looks down.

“You’re comfortable with Iwaizumi doing that?” 

“There’s no reason I shouldn’t be.” 

“Unless it’s you.” 

It takes Sakusa a moment to understand what Atsumu’s trying to say. There’s a hint of a tease in his voice, but it’s vulnerability more than anything, and Sakusa isn’t used to it. He’s particularly not used to it coming from Atsumu. Equally as bad is that the only way to respond to something like that is with vulnerability, too, which Sakusa is far from willing to give up. 

“Yes.” Sakusa meets Atsumu’s eye as he says it. “That’s not something I’m comfortable with right now.”

Atsumu perks up. 

_Right now_ hangs heavy in the air around them.

Sakusa tries not to let himself find too much optimism in how Atsumu doesn’t press him on it. The omega is content with Sakusa as he is. Again and again, it’s more than Sakusa expects, and again, it’s more than he deserves. 

A long moment.

And then, Atsumu tries a different tactic. 

“I wonder what’ll happen when Iwaizumi becomes so happy he moves in with the omega.” He murmurs. 

“That wouldn’t be for a while.” 

“You don’t know.” Atsumu lips curve. “Alphas can be impatient. Omegas can be irrational.”

“Then I would find a new roommate.”

“Funny enough, I know someone who’s looking for a new roommate.”

“Not you.”

“It wouldn’t be for a while.” 

“Still.”

Sakusa wants to ignore how Atsumu’s open palm waiting for Sakusa’s hand abruptly curls shut. He could pretend it’s meaningless. It’s not. 

“Atsumu.” 

“Omi-kun,” the omega lets out a strained breath. “I don’t know how long a while is for you.” 

The first thought he has, before anything else, he thinks of Iwaizumi curled up with that omega, and Sakusa doesn’t know why.

He’s not comfortable with anything that. He isn’t comfortable with more than what they have now. Not like Iwaizumi. He isn’t Iwaizumi. Atsumu knows that. Why is Atsumu comparing him to Iwaizumi? Alphas aren’t all the same. 

Sakusa doesn’t know why he’s like this. 

He hasn’t cared about figuring out why.

Until now, looking at Atsumu now. 

“I don’t know.”

Atsumu stares up. At a cloud, maybe. His palm falls open. 

“I know. That’s okay.” 

Sakusa’s eyes flicker to Atsumu’s palm. His own hands feel like lead, hot in his pockets. 

“Just, hear me out on one thing.” Atsumu says. “No pressure. No strings-attached. I just want you to hear me out, that’s all.”

That in itself makes the alpha a little uneasy, like he knows Atsumu is about to toe some line again, but it’s the least he can do. He hums. 

“My apartment is basically gonna be empty all week, aside from me when I’m not working.” Atsumu starts, apprehensive. “If I opened all the windows and turned on purifiers and kept my patches on, it might not smell like anything, and- wait, you said you would hear me out, please.” He blurts as Sakusa’s eyes narrow into something menacing. “A couch isn’t as comfortable as a hotel bed, but it’s better than spending all that money, or you could take Osamu’s bed but I figured you wouldn’t feel comfortable with that. You have your own sheets already, and you wouldn’t have to be in the apartment except at night, and even then you’ll just be asleep, and I wouldn’t annoy you. I would give you nothing but space. Just, I want you to consider it.” 

The idea is absurd enough that Sakusa pities Atsumu for wasting his breath on it. When holding hands still feels like an ordeal for the alpha, sharing an apartment for a week is jumping several uncomfortable bases. Sakusa listened, that’s what he said he would do, and now he wonders if he should be heading to the hotel to check-in soon. 

Atsumu is closer than he was a second ago, though. Sitting up, wide-eyed, pleading with his expression alone. And even though he’s probably uncomfortable like this, his hand remains open on the bench. 

He didn’t think it was possible, but maybe Sakusa had one too many espressos this morning. That’s the only explanation he can think of as to why he says, “Only at night?”

Atsumu seems confused. Surprised. And then, happy, which is an unhealthy thing for Sakusa’s decision-making ability. 

“Yeah! Whatever you’re comfortable with.” 

“Patches the whole time?”

“Yeah, yes. I’ll keep them on for the whole week.”

“That’s unhealthy.”

“I’ll take breaks.” Atsumu blurts. ”Outside. To take them off, so my scent won’t get inside.”

“Your apartment is already drenched with your scent.” 

“Purifiers. Osamu has a ton of purifiers for when Rin and I have our heats.”

“I would only be there to sleep.”

“I know!” 

“I would want to do my own cleaning beforehand.” 

“That’s fine by me.”

Sakusa almost wishes Atsumu would say no, he’s almost trying to get Atsumu to say no, so why does the omega look so damn happy?

“Fine.” 

“Really?”

“Yes. But I reserve the right to change my mind at any point.”

“Of course, Omi-Omi!” 

“Are you ready?” Sakusa stands up, tossing his coffee cup in the trash. 

“Now?” 

“Yes.” 

“We’re twenty minutes away.” 

Sakusa doesn’t try to suppress his nerves as they walk. Embracing them actually makes him feel better, because they remind him that he’s conscious of this, how insane this is, how rash and probably stupid it is. He won’t last more than one night, if that. 

Yet this doesn’t feel like the nightmare it should be when Atsumu’s looking at him like this. Like a puppy. 

And if Sakusa’s not obliterating his comfort zone enough already, he slips his hand out of his pocket. 

It doesn’t last more than a second, his fingers bumping against the back of Atsumu’s hand. Less than a second. But the tingling sensation where their skin met remains. 

Atsumu doesn’t stop smiling, either.

* * *

“If you bring it up one more time, I swear to god, Tooru.” 

“Koushi, fuck you, it’s not my choice. I can’t stop thinking about it. How would you react? What if it was Daichi? Did Daichi do that? I don’t think so.” Oikawa digs his fingers into the velvet of the couch, barely keeping himself from falling. “Why are you even still my best friend after that fuckshit you pulled last night?”

“Because you love me.”

“I don’t like you. And you’re dumb. You’re so dumb. Dumb.” 

“You can dislike someone and still love them.” Suga pokes Oikawa’s toe. “I know this because it’s how I feel about you.” 

“Dumb.”

“Drunk.”

“You’re drunk, too.” 

“I’m not as drunk as you are.”

Oikawa sticks out his tongue, but Suga can’t see him because Oikawa’s hanging upside down off the armrest, knees bent and blood in his head and hair tumbling towards the floor. Somewhere in front of the couch, Suga’s laying down with heavy eyes. 

“How long’s it been?” Suga murmurs. 

“Since what?”

“Since you got here.”

“I dunno.” 

“What time is it?”

“Your face.”

Suga groans as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. 

“It’s almost 10pm.”

Oikawa tries to pull himself back up, but it doesn’t work. “Already?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you get here at 6 this morning?”

“Probably,” Oikawa yawns, wincing at how his head throbs. “Iwa and I woke up around 5:30ish, so that makes sense. Speaking of, I just-”

“Here we go again.” Suga covers his face with his arm. 

“Oh my god, shut up. Bitch.”

“Slut.”

“Anyway,” the omega finally manages to slide back onto the couch. His back hurts now, but as much as his head, dizzy as his blood drains from his cheeks. “D’you think I should call him?”

“Right now? No.”

“Why not?” 

“Because you’re drunk, and because he’s basically drunk, too, except on hormones rather than margaritas.”

“Okay. Then tomorrow.”

“If I say no, you’ll just do it anyway.” 

“I hate you.”

“I love you, too.” Suga uses the coffee table to push himself up onto his feet, yawning again. “And now it’s time to get you home.”

“Koushiiii,” Oikawa whines, but he doesn’t resist as Suga yanks him to his feet. 

“I’ll have someone drive you home. We’ll drop off your car tomorrow.”

Oikawa lets Suga yank him out of the bedroom, down the stairs to the main foyer. 

“Dumb.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

Before Oikawa’s really conscious of it, the gentle vibrations of a car engine are beneath him. One of the Sugawara family cars. A driver he sort of recognizes. The familiar road back to Oikawa’s house. 

It doesn’t feel like this morning happened. When Oikawa woke up to body heat and a smell that made his heart thud uncomfortably in his chest, that look in Iwaizumi’s eyes as his lips grazed the omega’s scent glands. He had been disappointed last night when Iwaizumi fell asleep before they fucked, because that was the whole fucking reason Oikawa offered to drive him home, sat in the backseat with him. He’s sure he was giving fifty like Harumi suggested; all that was left was Iwaizumi to handle the other fifty and make a move. 

_Dumb._ Oikawa thinks, imagining Iwaizumi’s sleepy face. 

There’s something less satisfying about an alpha wanting to fuck him during their rut, though. He wasn’t going to turn Iwaizumi down, but it wasn’t ideal. Still, he had been ready. He offered. He consented, something omegas don’t always get to do in a situation like that. 

Iwaizumi must have the most self-control on the planet, Oikawa decides. 

It’s frustrating as fuck. 

And it’s sweet as fuck. 

Oikawa realizes the car stopped. He’s home. But something’s off as he walks in, changes his shoes for slippers and walks into the kitchen to get water before sleeping for the next week. 

“Tooru.”

_God no._

“Where have you been?” 

No, Oikawa’s too drunk for this, and _he_ isn’t supposed to be home for another month. Yet as he turns around, swallows, that’s undoubtedly his father. Harumi is close behind him, looking as distressed as Oikawa probably does. 

“You’re home early.” 

“Yes, I am. I’ve been home all day, actually. Harumi told me you spent the night out.”

Oikawa’s eyes flit to Harumi. She gives a brief nod.

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere.”

His father lets it slide surprisingly, but Oikawa’s on thin ice. He isn’t pretending to be sober. 

“Why are you back? Early, I mean.” The omega asks. 

“It’s your birthday the day after tomorrow. I nearly forgot, but I took the first flight when I remembered.”

With the state he’s in, Oikawa forgot his birthday is this week, too. He’s not so gone as to think this is normal behavior for this father, though, his father who hasn’t given a shit about his birthday in years. He must want something. 

“We’re holding a banquet for you in a few weeks.” 

And that’s what he wants. 

“A belated party for your 25th birthday, something the Ushijima family and our family will be hosting together.” 

Oikawa might be sick. 

“We’ll also be announcing the official date of the wedding there.” 

Oikawa will definitely be sick.

“A tailor is coming tomorrow to measure you for what you’ll be wearing, both for the banquet and the wedding. Good night.”

Oikawa can't remember when he started crying. 

All he knows is his makeup is streaked down his face and his shirt is wet once Harumi helps him upstairs to his bathroom. Silent tears, or maybe not, since he can’t hear himself crying. He can’t hear anything. He can’t see anything. 

The only feeling he’s capable of recognizing is this godforsaken ache in his body. Sobbing, kicking, clawing. An ache that demands Iwaizumi with every ounce of greed Oikawa Tooru possesses. An ache that hates his father, hates Ushijima, hates everything except for that one dumb thing, that one dumb person

Iwaizumi. 

Oikawa, in spite of his exhaustion, doesn’t fall asleep. 

He cries until dawn, until the sunrise makes his tears glitter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come get your first of many angst crumbs :)  
> and happy sakuatsu day! god i love them,, they’re so real, if that makes sense 🥺 ok speaking of atsumu- 1) i know a lot of fics write his dialect properly (aka using “yer” instead of “your” and all that good stuff) but i personally don’t like how it flows~ just to clarify!** and 2) since inarizaki is located in the hyōgō prefecture, i just chose the biggest city there for the miya twins’ hometown (aka kobe) ~ so that isnt based on anything canonical.  
> umm i wrote this chapter listening to sad banana fish ost so do with that information what you will...  
> i hope youre taking care of yourself and getting enough sleep and drinking water. i love you and im thankful for you ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ｡ ❤️ thank you for sticking with this story !! update posted within the week ^^ :)
> 
> p.s. season 4, 2nd cour is so good and i spend all my free time crying over suna


	9. Chapter 9

Atsumu’s bedroom door is open. 

How someone can sleep with their door cracked, let alone wide open, with some dirty clothes shoved into a corner and a day old glass of water on his bedside table in full view from the hallway, Sakusa has never understood. The curtains are shut, but a night light in the corner is bright, seemingly too bright for anyone to fall asleep. Sakusa assumes that Atsumu would lie about having one if he asked. 

Atsumu’s curled up under a plush comforter, hugging two of the many pillows piled up on his bed like omegas usually do. He’s drowning in stuffed animals, too, and fuzzy blankets that look suffocating in this summer heat. 

He’s snoring softly, too, which bothers Sakusa, although it bothers him more that his first thought was how he’ll be able to sleep beside Atsumu if he snores like that every night. Then again, he’s stayed on Atsumu’s couch for four nights, and he hasn’t heard him snore until now. Until this morning, as he stands outside Atsumu’s bedroom with his toiletries bag in hand. 

Today is the fifth day. 

Sakusa meant it when he said he would only be at the omega’s apartment at night. No matter how Atsumu argued, begged, pouted trying to get Sakusa to have coffee with him, or stay the afternoon for lunch, or come home early for a movie, Sakusa only comes to the apartment to sleep. 

He leaves at 5:00am before Atsumu is awake, and returns at 9:00pm before Atsumu comes home. If it weren’t for the hint of Osamu’s scent that breaks through his mask (which he hasn’t taken off once over the last few days), he might not know he’s in Atsumu’s apartment. 

Any omega pheromones that weren’t eliminated with purifiers and Sakusa’s vigorous cleaning the first day he arrived are blocked by Osamu. He must be an alpha with an especially strong scent, Sakusa assumes, which is better than omega, but it still makes Sakusa uneasy. As if he’s infringing on something that isn't his. 

The territorial aspect is mostly why he’s anxious to spend as much time away from the apartment as he can. 

Mostly. 

Breakfast at the cafe, study at the library, work at the university, dinner at a salad place he likes. Relying on public restrooms is a nightmare, but he makes do with gloves and hand sanitizer, knowing it’s still less stressful than using Atsumu’s bathroom. The bathroom, the one room in the apartment where Atsumu takes his patches off to shower. 

Sakusa doesn’t want to risk it. 

He doesn’t want to risk it, and yet it’s about fifteen minutes before five and he’s standing outside Atsumu’s bathroom. The bathroom where Atsumu takes his patches off to shower. Sakusa would be using Atsumu’s bathroom now, if he hadn’t gotten distracted by his open door. 

Sakusa woke up thinking about Iwaizumi asleep with that omega. 

It was quite literally the worst image his mind could conjure up first thing in the morning before he could even have his coffee, coupled by an equally disgusting feeling of curiosity. He doesn’t want to use that word, either, but he can’t think of another way to describe it. Not when the next thought he had was picturing himself in Iwaizumi’s position, and that omega as Atsumu instead. 

Atsumu’s pheromones must be getting to him somehow, even if he can’t smell them. 

He watches the omega a moment longer, blonde hair ruffled and fingers twitching, amidst a dream. Even like this, he’s pretty. 

Sakusa has never told Atsumu that he’s pretty, but compliments make him anxious. Both giving and receiving them. Atsumu hasn’t overtly complimented Sakusa, either, so he must understand that. 

They’re dating. Sakusa willingly lets himself be something _more_ to Atsumu. That should speak for itself. 

Sakusa briefly wonders if Iwaizumi compliments the omega he’s dating often, but that’s irrelevant, it doesn’t matter, and thinking about it makes him anxious, too. He looks away from Atsumu’s prettiness, hurries into the bathroom across the hall with his shoulders somewhat hunched and breath held behind his mask. 

He works quickly, wiping down the faucet, the counter, the toilet, the doorknob, even his toothbrush as he pulls it out of his bag. Taking a shallow breath against his sleeve, he pulls his mask down to brush his teeth. Flossing is the bigger challenge, though, and he accidentally inhales more deeply than he would’ve liked. 

But even as he braces for any unwanted pheromones he might breathe in, the only smell is a hint of Osamu. He narrows his eyes, breathing in again. Only Osamu. It makes the hairs on his neck stand, his jaw tighten, the feeling of intruding on another alpha’s space stronger now. Yet it’s still better than Atsumu’s scent. 

Sakusa notices the vent in the bathroom is on, and there’s a purifier in the corner, so it shouldn’t be too surprising that the air is almost empty. 

Maybe this feeling isn’t surprise, then. Maybe disappointment. 

He glares at himself in the mirror. 

As he washes and moisturizes his face, he lets his mind wander just slightly. His main concern has become what skincare products Atsumu uses. That’s important information for a boyfriend to have, even if it’s morally grey to open someone’s bathroom cabinets without their permission. 

Behind the mirror, it’s the standard array of things he expected. Pill bottles of heat suppressants, scent patches, lotions, but his attention is drawn to these small glass cylinders pushed into the corner of the top shelf. Like perfume. 

It doesn’t take much for Sakusa to realize those are pheromones. 

Atsumu’s pheromones.

He probably got a few samples from the company he works for. 

Sakusa isn’t surprised that Atsumu would hold onto them while other omegas would probably throw them away, because who holds onto samples of their own pheromones, but Atsumu’s arrogance explains it easily enough. 

Sakusa doesn’t smell anything unusual, meaning the bottles must be sealed tightly. That’s a relief. It gives him the confidence to pick one up, too, looking at the frilly gold label describing the scent of cinnamon apple and pre-heat. 

A twinge of irritation prickles under Sakusa’s skin. He’s known Atsumu does this kind of work for almost as long as he’s known the omega, but there’s something different about seeing the product, the manufactured advertisement of his boyfriend’s scent.

This is a different feeling. It’s clearly some petty alpha instinct that he despises in theory but can’t help in practice, this possessiveness urging him to throw this bottle and the rest of them into the trash. To convince Atsumu to quit. 

This isn’t a hundred years ago when omegas were used for breeding and not allowed much more than that, though. Sakusa would never try to talk Atsumu, or any omega, out of this line of work. Not when it makes him happy and gives him coffee money for their dates. Their dates, which Sakusa decides should happen more often than once a week now that he’s holding this bottle of Atsumu’s scent. 

But Sakusa’s alignment won’t change, no matter how fervently he represses his instincts. He knows that, as much as he hates to admit it, and some urges are stronger than others, especially when it has to do with omegas. 

Like this impulse to make coffee in Atsumu’s kitchen rather than go to the café. This impulse to make another cup for Atsumu, putting it in the fridge so it’ll be cold by the time he wakes up. To do some work at Atsumu’s table rather than head out to the library. To wait until he hears Atsumu’s obnoxiously loud yawn, the open and close of a door, the shower starting in the bathroom. 

The omega freezes, confused, entranced as he wanders into the kitchen around 9am to find Sakusa pouring over an article with his fourth cup of coffee in hand. 

Sakusa glances up at him. Then he looks back down at his computer screen. He throws back the last of his coffee, hoping it’ll give him the energy to convince him this wasn’t a stupid idea. 

“Omi?” Atsumu blinks sleep out of his eyes. “Why’re you still here?” 

Sakusa refuses to say he wanted to spend the morning with Atsumu. This gesture in itself is already too much. So he just shrugs. 

“Don’t you have to tutor that undergrad student today?” 

“Not on Thursdays.” 

“Where’s your mask?”

“I’m having my coffee.” 

“How long’ve you been up?” 

“Since five.”

“Oh.”

Sakusa peers up at the omega over his glasses. 

It’s refreshing to see Atsumu like this. Too groggy for his attitude to have woken up yet, too bleary-eyed to give Sakusa that annoying look he gives when the alpha’s being sappy. Brushing his hair back with his fingers, Atsumu yawns. He rubs his eye with the back of his hand. 

“Is there something different about today? ” 

Sakusa looks back at his laptop. “No.”

“So…” Atsumu lazily kneels down across the table from him. There’s a softness to his smirk, a droop in his eyes from sleep that makes Sakusa apprehensive. “Omi-kun just wanted to spend more time with me then?” 

Sakusa stops himself from cringing, but he never knows how else to react to things like that. Things that can be left unsaid. 

But for some godforsaken reason, Sakusa thinks of Iwaizumi. 

And then he slips his glasses off, finishes what’s left of the coffee in his cup. 

He doesn’t have to be so difficult. 

“That shouldn’t be surprising.” 

Even if it’s uncomfortable. 

“We are dating, Atsumu.” 

Sakusa won’t make eye contact, so he stares at a fleck of dust on Atsumu’s side of the table. His strained heart beats loudly in his ears, in his throat. 

Caffeine. He needs caffeine more than anything right now, so he picks up his mug and heads over to the coffee pot for his fifth cup. 

“You mean that?” Atsumu murmurs. 

His voice is light, genuine in a way it rarely is. He must be smiling. 

“Do I mean that we’re dating?”

“No, no, that’s not- I mean- we’ve been dating for months, that’s not what I mean. But you just… you don’t usually say that kind of stuff.” 

Sakusa’s quiet for a moment as he fills his mug. 

Black coffee sounds like silk as it’s poured. Dark, velvet. It’s calming. 

“I know. But I should say it more often. It’s not fair to you.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Wouldn’t say what?”

“I don’t think it’s about fairness. You have boundaries, and certain stuff makes you uncomfortable, and I get that. I work around it.” 

“You work around it.” 

“Yeah.”

“My point is you shouldn’t have to.” Sakusa kneels back down at the table, coffee steaming in hand. But he’s sitting closer to Atsumu now. 

Atsumu blushes. He rarely blushes, and Sakusa’s rarely the reason for it. 

“What d’you mean?” 

“I know I’m difficult.” Sakusa wishes this didn’t have to be so uncomfortable. “I ask you to do things other alphas wouldn’t ask you to do. I know how much I make you read between the lines. I need you to know that I know that.” 

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.” Atsumu nods, still looking dazed with wide eyes. “I know. But I’m okay with it. I knew all that going into this.” 

“Then why did you go into it?” 

“Why did I ask you out?” Atsumu leans his elbow on the table, resting his cheek against his palm. “Because I could tell you were interested, but I knew you were never going to ask me first.” 

“Why did you ask me out knowing I was going to be difficult.” Sakusa narrows his eyes, rephrasing it. 

“You want me to be honest?”

“Yes.”

“Because I figured you were worth it.” 

There’s nothing unsure in Atsumu’s face. No hesitation. 

He genuinely means that. 

“And you know what, Omi? You are worth it. Sure, sometimes I wish things were moving faster, but I’m waiting for you. As long as I know you’ll get here eventually, I’ll wait for you.” 

“What if I don’t get there eventually?”

“You will.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Kiyoomi.” Atsumu sits up straight. He rests his arm flat on the table, his hand open. Palm open. “You will.” 

Sakusa stares at Atsumu’s hand. 

This must be the first time the omega is seeing him blush, because he doesn’t have his mask to hide behind. His face is hot, and he’s uncomfortable. This is the feeling he’s been avoiding. Dreading. 

But it doesn’t feel as bad as he thought it would. 

“Atsumu.”

“Hm?”

“Take your patches off.” 

Panic. 

Panic flashes across both of their faces. 

“Why?”

“I want you to.”

“Are you serious?”

Sakusa hesitates, but he nods, even if this onslaught of anxiety mixing with the caffeine in his blood is a terrible combination, and he can’t believe that he’s serious, either. 

“You don’t have to-”

“Atsumu, I’m serious. You can take them off.” 

A heavy moment passes. Atsumu seems like he’s going to argue, pink staining his cheeks and something nervous in the way he shifts on his knees. He glances at Sakusa, as if he’s expecting him to change his mind. Willing him to change his mind. 

But Sakusa waits. 

Atsumu chews his bottom lip as he lifts shaky hands to his neck, fingers fumbling as he searches for the transparent film covering his scent glands.

“Actually,” Sakusa interrupts. Both of them stiffen. “Let me do it.”

“You want to?”

Sakusa nods. 

“Okay.” Atsumu brings his hands down slowly, shifting closer to Sakusa. “Alright.” 

They’ve been this close to each other plenty of times before. Close enough that their legs press against each other and Sakusa can feel how hot Atsumu’s breath is. But this is the most intimate they’ve ever been. It’s different, this closeness. 

Sakusa touches Atsumu’s hand first, just to get used to the feeling of his skin. Soft. And then he brings his hands to the side of his neck, watching tension in Atsumu’s body manifest in how he freezes, his muscles taute and breath stuck in his throat. 

The patches are hard to grasp, but Sakusa manages to get his fingertips underneath them. Once he does, he takes a moment to breathe, pressing his lips together to hold his breath in. He pulls them off. 

At first, it’s underwhelming. 

Sakusa can’t pick up on anything right away. The only thing in his nose is coffee and an echo of Osamu.

It’s not until he inhales that he recoils, falling back, away from Atsumu, gripping the table to keep himself upright. 

The label was right. Cinnamon and apples. 

Sakusa’s never particularly liked the smell of omega, setting aside the implications it has on his impulse-control and rationale, but this scent is nothing like he’s experienced. 

It’s good. It’s simply _good,_ in every sense of the word. He takes another deep breath, and a small sound even rumbles in his throat. He never lets that happen. 

All he wants is more of this smell. More of Atsumu. 

“What do you think?” Atsumu asks. 

Sakusa realizes his eyes were closed. His nose is nearly touching Atsumu’s scent glands, too, and Atsumu’s neck is angled to give him room. 

This is the downside of pheromones, he reminds himself. Lack of composure. 

“Good. You smell good.” Sakusa says. “Like cinnamon. Sweet.” 

“You like it?” 

“I like it.” 

A smile that makes Sakusa feel even more impulsive blooms across Atsumu’s face. The alpha knows he’s saying things he wouldn’t ever think of saying if he didn’t have this scent rolling across his body like a drug. The only thing saving him from complete embarrassment is how happy Atsumu looks about it. 

“I was nervous you wouldn’t like it, Omi-Omi. I couldn’t see how you wouldn’t like it, but still. I thought, maybe that was why you always wanted me to wear patches.” 

“That’s not why.” 

Sakusa rests his hand on Atsumu’s leg. 

They’re closer.

It occurs to Sakusa just how much closer they are, as one of his curls brushes against Atsumu’s bangs. A little more, and their foreheads would touch. 

“Atsumu.”

Sakusa’s hand trails up the omega’s lap, up his torso. His fingers drift along Atsumu’s neck, until they find his jaw. His touch is his light. Barely tangible. Atsumu leans into it. 

“Omi.” 

He moves gradually, with some doubt and some caution in how he tilts Atsumu’s jaw, but more than anything, he’s deliberate. Atsumu closes his eyes well before Sakusa. He remains still. Patient. Waiting, like he said he would. 

As Sakusa’s lips brush against his, there’s still an air of uncertainty around him. 

But all of that melts as he closes what little distance there is between them, kissing Atsumu like he should’ve kissed Atsumu months ago. 

How he wanted to kiss Atsumu the day they first met. 

Their first kiss, and Atsumu tastes like cinnamon.

* * *

**_New Message_ **

**_from:_ ** **iwa-chaaan** 💖 

_5:46 PM_

___________

 **Iwa:** _Hey._

Oikawa squints at his phone. It takes him a minute to process the text on his screen through sleep-deprived eyes, but he lets out a hoarse gasp, rolls over in his bed amidst a mess of sheets and pillows once he realizes who it’s from. 

He has to remind himself that Oikawa Tooru never responds right away, although he can’t remember the last time he _wanted_ to respond this badly. After spending the last week in what he can only describe as his personal hell, hearing from Iwaizumi is everything he needed.

Five days spent crying, or waiting until it was appropriate to cry, or disappearing to his bedroom to cry until someone came to retrieve him. Every tear made him think of Iwaizumi. As he tried on a million stupid suits and dresses, sat around a table with family members he barely knew as they discussed _his_ fucking wedding, planned a birthday banquet even though his birthday was on fucking Monday and he’s been twenty-five for several days now. Guilt and Iwaizumi. 

Suga tried to take him out on Monday night, like they’ve done on their birthdays since they were in high school, but Oikawa refused. He finished a pint of ice cream and watched reality TV by himself instead. God, that’s depressing. 

It’s not his fault he can’t find any motivation when he hates everything. And everything hates him, too, apparently. He just hopes Iwaizumi doesn’t hate him. 

Just not Iwaizumi. 

With his lights off and the curtains drawn, the screen stings his eyes. But all he can do is stare at Iwaizumi’s message. He sits up in bed, hugging his knees to his chest and holding his phone with both hands like it’s something precious. 

Has it been long enough? He doesn’t care. 

**Oikawa:** _hi ~_

Three grey bubbles pop up almost immediately. Oikawa smiles. 

**Iwa:** _How are you?_

 **Oikawa:** _as_ _amazing as i usually am (´ ε ` )♡_

**Iwa** : _How are you really_

Oikawa’s smile fades. He hasn’t spoken to Iwaizumi since Saturday morning, even though he wanted to call him more than once. But he didn’t, and he didn’t say anything that would make Iwaizumi say something like that. 

Iwaizumi is just assuming. 

_I hate him._

**Oikawa** : _it’s_ _kind of a shitty week_

 **Iwa** _: Do you wanna talk about it?_

 **Oikawa** _: no_

 **Iwa** _: Well I just wanted to let you know my rut’s over_

 **Oikawa** _: it ended today ???_

 **Iwa** _: Yeah_

 **Iwa** _: This morning, more or less_

 **Oikawa** _: were you thinking about me all week iwa-chan ? (っ˘ω˘ς )_

 **Iwa** _: No_

 **Oikawa** _: liar >:( _

**Oikawa** : _but i forgive you_

 **Iwa:** _Seriously shut up_

 **Oikawa** _: (╥﹏╥)_

 **Iwa** : _What are you doing tonight?_

Oikawa blinks at his screen. A warm, happy feeling bubbles throughout his body as he rereads the message, over and over, making sure he’s not misunderstanding something. His next thought is panic, because he must look like shit after lying in bed all day, but that’s an easy fix. He needs this. 

**Oikawa** : _nothing, why ?_

 **Iwaizumi** : _I want to see you_

Oikawa needs this so much. 

**Oikawa** : _me too_

 **Oikawa** : _but are you sure that’s okay so soon after your rut ?_

 **Iwaizumi** _: I’ll be fine_

 **Oikawa** _: okay : )_

 **Iwaizumi** : _Meet me at the park we went to last time? 7?_

 **Oikawa:** _perfect !!!_

He stares at their texts a little longer, waiting for Iwaizumi to say something else, something romantic or sappy that Oikawa would gag at but love all the same. It shouldn’t be surprising that he doesn’t say anything like that. 

Oikawa sighs, throws his phone into his covers, but he doesn’t have time to be annoyed with Iwaizumi. Not when he has thirty minutes to put on three hours worth of makeup. In an ideal world, he would call Suga for an emergency consultation. It is not an ideal world, however, so the best he can do is send the other omega a picture of his closet with the caption “help.” 

It’s a good thing Suga has his entire wardrobe memorized, and he even knows where each item he’s thinking of is specifically located. As usual, Oikawa scoffs at what he picks out, but these jeans look fabulous and so does this button-up, cuffed at his elbows like Suga instructed. Simple, pretty, works with his makeup, okay, all set. 

“Tooru.” 

As he slips his shoes on downstairs, Harumi leans against the wall behind him with hands clasped and a soft look that makes Oikawa anxious.

“Are you going to see him?” 

“Not so loud!” 

“Your father isn’t home right now.” 

“Still. I don’t want to risk it.” 

“Don’t worry about that, Tooru. No one knows aside from you and I.” 

“Thank god.” Oikawa slips his keys out of his pocket, takes his purse from Harumi’s hands and slides it over his shoulder. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“That’s alright. You just have fun, okay?”

“But not too much fun, right? That’s what you always say.” 

“You should never have too much fun.” She stands on her toes to fix his hair a little. “But I’m glad you’re going to be with him after the week you’ve had. He makes you happy.” 

“Harumi? Is that really you?” 

“Shush. Don’t make him wait.” 

With that, she pushes Oikawa out the door and doesn’t shut it until he pulls out of the garage. Oikawa hates seeing Harumi all sympathetic like that, it doesn’t sit right with him. It’s so unlike her. More than anything, it just makes him want to cry for some reason. 

Why does everything make him want to cry?

Blasting music that hurts his ears, rolling all of his windows down as he speeds towards the city, that makes him feel better. He’s going to see Iwaizumi soon, and that makes him feel better, too. 

He’s so excited to see Iwaizumi that he parks around the corner from the park a couple minutes before seven. Early. Arriving early is a violation of Oikawa’s moral code, it has been since as long as he can remember, but even though he knows he’s early, he’s getting out of his car, hurrying towards the park in spite of it. 

Iwaizumi’s already there, sitting at their bench with his hands in his pockets. Oikawa stops himself from sprinting into his arms once he spots him, regardless of how tempting it is to see the alpha’s reaction, and he takes a moment to compose himself. 

Deep breath. Readjust his purse. Hold his head high, and walk in the opposite direction. He makes sure that he’s in view of their bench before he starts off, looking all pretty and oblivious (he hopes). 

It only takes him a minute. 

“Oikawa!” 

_God,_ his name sounds so good in Iwaizumi’s voice. 

“Oikawa!” Iwaizumi calls out again, but the omega’s still pretending he can’t hear him. 

He keeps pretending until he feels Iwaizumi’s hand on his shoulder. His touch, it sends shivers up Oikawa’s body. Not one word between them yet, and his cheeks are already pink. 

“Oh, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa turns around with his bottom lip between his teeth, giggling and tossing his bangs back. “I guess I didn’t see you.” 

But Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything. 

He just… stares. At Oikawa.

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa tilts his head. “Everything okay?” 

He stares. A few more seconds pass as he stares at Oikawa, long seconds, before he finally snaps out of whatever the hell he’s in. 

“Yeah. Uh, right. Yeah.” 

Oikawa doesn’t miss the red that teases the alpha’s face, even if Iwaizumi tries to hide it by rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Iwa-chan? What is it?”

Iwaizumi seems to realize his hand is still on Oikawa’s shoulder. He pulls it away.

“What? Nothing. What are- What are you talking about?” 

“Oh?” Oikawa laughs. “Iwa-chan’s hiding something? Why were you staring at me?” 

“I wasn’t.”

Now Iwaizumi’s really blushing, and it only makes Oikawa’s curiosity more lethal. 

“Oh my god, you were. Why are you trying to hide it? It’s okay, Iwa-chan! Why would I be upset? I’m used to being admired, you know.” 

“Shut up,” he mumbles, but he’s staring at the ground rather than Oikawa. 

“Iwa.” 

He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, pulls his hands out of his pockets, puts them back in, crinkles his nose as he reluctantly meets Oikawa’s gaze. He’s flustered, in his own flustered Iwaizumi kind of way. Oikawa thinks it’s adorable. 

“Just tell me.” Oikawa says. 

The alpha lets out a shaky sigh, shakes his head. “Fuck, it’s stupid.” 

“It probably is. But tell me.” 

“Dammit.”

“Iwa-chaaaan.”

Iwaizumi opens his mouth, but closes it. Instead, he looks somewhere above the omega. Then he opens his mouth again. 

“The sky… The sky, or the sunset, I guess. It looks, well, it looks… the sunset looks like your eyes. Right now, it’s all golden. Your eyes are… your eyes- it’s like your eyes are shining.” 

It’s not dark yet in the city. The streetlamps aren’t on yet, though, so it's dark enough that the stars blend into purple above them. Like watercolor, they meld with the sunset over the park. Liquid gold, but darker than that. 

Maybe dark enough to look like Oikawa’s eyes. 

“That was probably the worst delivery of a compliment I’ve ever heard in my life, but you pass. Just barely.”

Iwaizumi looks like he might want to disappear off the face of the planet. Oikawa laughs, shoving him in a teasing way until the alpha’s smiling, too, with his eyes rather than his mouth. Or at least Oikawa thinks so. 

The alpha rubs his forehead, grits his back teeth. “Okay, can we please go now?” 

“What did you have in mind?” 

“Ice cream. If you’re okay with that, obviously. I just always crave ice cream after my rut.”

“Oh, same here. I couldn’t survive my heat without ice cream and cherries.” 

“Cherries?”

“It’s weird, right? Pretty much all omegas have cravings during their heat, but it’s usually just chocolate and sweet things like that. I think I’m the only one who craves cherries.”

“That’s interesting.”

“Yeah.” 

Iwaizumi leads them onto the sidewalk, towards the place he always goes to after his ruts. It’s sort of rude to walk side-by-side on the sidewalk, but Oikawa refuses to walk anywhere else, not until Iwaizumi takes his hand. Eventually, he does. 

Their fingers intertwine like it’s natural, something they’ve done a thousand times before. Iwaizumi’s hand is warm, and Oikawa wishes they were closer. Physically, somehow. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Hm?” Oikawa giggles at him. “You can ask me anything, Iwa-chan. You don’t need permission.” 

“Oh, yeah. Okay.” Iwaizumi rubs his thumb along Oikawa’s hand. It feels nice. “I was just wondering if you’ve ever spent your heat with an alpha before.” 

“Me? No. I’ve dealt with ruts, but I would never let an alpha near me during my heat. I’ve had plenty try, but there’s no way in hell I’d let that happen. Whatever would happen, I know I’d regret it.” 

“Yeah. That makes sense.”

“Why?’

“Just curious.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” 

“Well, then let me ask you this.” Oikawa gives his hand a gentle squeeze. “Have you ever been with an omega in heat before?” 

“No. I almost did once, my first year of university. But I haven’t.”

“Ah.”

“What?”

“Just curious.”

They walk for a few minutes in silence, aside from the sounds of shop bells and bike wheels and dinner chatter around them. The way their hands fit each other, how Iwaizumi rubs shapes into Oikawa’s finger, that’s a conversation all on its own. 

At the ice cream shop, Iwaizumi orders a chocolate cone, which Oikawa finds hysterical because it’s the most boring thing he could’ve chosen, but it’s fitting in a way. The omega gets a rainbow-sprinkle waffle cone with one scoop of moosetracks and two scoops of red velvet, topped with hot fudge and more sprinkles, and a ridiculous glob of whipped cream. With a cherry, of course. 

“That’s repulsive.” Iwaizumi scoffs as they’re leaving. 

They haven’t stopped holding hands. 

“Excuse me?” Oikawa gasps even though his mouth is full. “Says the guy who orders a fucking chocolate cone. You're the most boring person on this planet.”

“Okay, you don’t have to be a genius to recognize that red velvet and moosetracks don’t go together. They’re on completely different levels.” 

“It’s not my fault your taste buds are inferior. The peanut butter tastes like heaven with the red velvet, I swear to god. And sprinkles are necessary, no matter what flavor you’re getting, Just looking at what you got makes me want to die.”

“Simplicity is underrated.” Iwaizumi shrugs. “Nothing beats a plain chocolate cone. You can’t go wrong with the classics.”

“Simple is different from boring. You don’t even have any toppings.”

“Toppings distract from the ice cream. And _your_ toppings are giving me flashbacks.” 

“What the fuck does that mean?” 

“Whipped cream.”

Oikawa stares at his cone, processing what the alpha’s saying. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.”

“That- That has nothing to do with the topic at hand.”

“But I gotta ask. Of all things, why did you put whipped cream on your car?”

“It was convenient.” Oikawa snaps. “And I didn’t want to use anything that might actually damage it.”

“Makes sense.” Iwaizumi bites into his cone. “I don’t look at whipped cream the same anymore, though.” 

But Oikawa isn’t paying attention anymore, or rather he’s paying more attention to Iwaizumi’s mouth than anything. “I’m sorry, did you just _bite_ your ice cream?” 

“What? Yeah.”

“Oh my god.” 

“What’s the problem?”

“You just bit your ice cream.” 

“So?”

“You’re a psychopath.”

“Uh, alright, first of all, people who can’t bite ice cream are weak.”

“It’s called having sensitive teeth, Iwa-chan!” 

“Sure, yeah, whatever.”

“That’s it.” Oikawa humphs. “No more ice cream dates.” 

Iwaizumi smirks, but he feins disappointment. “There goes all of my plans.” 

“You’ll just have to figure out something else next time.”

“Next time, huh.”

“Yeah.”

It’s not like this is their first date. Or their only date. It _is_ a date, even if they haven’t explicitly called it that. They both know this, they both understand it better than anyone, so Oikawa can’t figure out why the air around them seems to change so much. Not necessarily in a bad way, but it just feels… different. 

By the time they settle down at a bench nestled between a few trees, nestled away in a less crowded area of the street, it’s dark enough that the sunset is more purple than gold. 

Iwaizumi finishes his ice cream first. He wipes his hand on his jeans, the other glued to Oikawa like his life depends on not letting go. Oikawa doesn’t want him to let go, either, so it works out in that way. 

“Hey, Oikawa.”

The omega’s sucking on the cherry between his teeth. He glances at Iwaizumi. 

“Uh,” Iwaizumi clears his throat, swallows. “This is a date. Right?”

Oikawa plucks the cherry stem out of his mouth. 

He twirls it in his fingers, watching a droplet of red juice roll onto his hand. He nods. 

“So, we’re dating.” Iwaizumi says. “Actually, really dating. Right?”

Oikawa nods again. 

“Meaning…”

Oikawa flicks the stem onto the ground. He holds onto Iwaizumi’s hand tighter, shifts just a little closer. 

“Meaning that you’re my boyfriend.” Iwaizumi moves closer, too. “Right?”

_Boyfriend._

Of all the alphas who have courted Oikawa, who have given him gifts, fucked him, threatened to propose to him, Oikawa never considered any of them to be his boyfriend. Now that he thinks about it, he’s never had a boyfriend before. Not like this, at least. 

Not like ice cream dates and holding hands and eyes that look like sunsets. 

It’s never occurred to him how fucking terrifying that word is. Mainly because it never occurred to him that he could have a boyfriend, not in the way he defined it. He’s engaged to an alpha he hates, but if he weren’t engaged to Ushijima, then his father would set him up with the next worst option. A “boyfriend” was never part of the equation for him. 

But neither was Iwaizumi.

And even then, Iwaizumi was only supposed to be a trophy. Sex he worked for. It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this, he never would have imagined that it could turn out like this. He’s still apprehensive about anything more. But he already passed that point whether he wants to admit it or not.

Maybe he passed that point the moment he decided to turn into that carwash. 

“Yeah.” Oikawa looks at him, looks at Iwaizumi. “I’m your boyfriend.” 

Whatever uneasy feeling was surrounding them before dissipates at that. 

Oikawa finds himself laughing, of all things, and even Iwaizumi is smiling at him, wiping a bit of whipped cream off the omega’s bottom lip. 

“That’s why you wanted to see me immediately after your rut? To call me your boyfriend?” Oikawa cocks an eyebrow at him. 

“No.”

“You’re lying again!” 

“No, I’m not.” Iwaizumi says. “I told you, I just wanted to see you.”

“That’s the same thing, Iwa-chan.”

“It’s not.”

They stay out late again tonight, and Oikawa drives Iwaizumi back to his apartment again, but he refuses when Oikawa insists they climb in the backseat together. 

“No, it doesn’t matter how many times you ask,” Iwaizumi says, already climbing out of the passenger’s seat. “It’s not gonna happen. I can’t risk another repeat of last time.”

“It’s not my fault you fell asleep!” 

“I didn’t say it was.”

“Iwa-chaaan, come on.” Oikawa whines, but Iwaizumi shuts the door behind him. 

“Not tonight.” 

Oikawa perks up. “Then another night?” 

“Probably not.” 

“So mean.”

“Get some sleep tonight.” The alpha rests his elbows on the open window, leaning into the car. “Don’t stay up too late. I mean it.” 

“Sleep is for the weak.”

“Not biting your ice cream is for the weak, actually.”

“Shut up, Iwa-chan!” 

“Good night, Oikawa.” 

Oikawa slumps back into his seat. He pouts, sticking his tongue out at Iwaizumi, but he buries his face in his hands once the alpha heads into the apartment building. He desperately needs to debrief with Koushi, after this tingling sensation in his chest, his stomach calms down. Butterflies? These have to be butterflies. 

“Oh my god!” Suga squeals into the phone. He hasn’t noticed that Oikawa’s driving, or he’s choosing to overlook it for once. “Oikawa Tooru experiencing butterflies? It should be a national day.” 

“I know! I know. And he called me his boyfriend, Koushi. Can you believe I’m officially not single anymore?” 

“You haven’t been single for several months now, actually.” 

“For the love of god, don’t bring up Ushijima right now.” 

“I am simply reminding you. But of course, I’m thrilled for you, Tooru, I’m so much more than thrilled.”

Oikawa chews his lip. “Should I go see him again tomorrow?” 

“You know what I’m going to say. Playing hard to get doesn’t end just because there’s a label.” 

“I know, I know. But-”

“But you’re going to see him anyway.” Suga finishes his sentence. “I know.” 

“Fuck you for being such a good best friend.” 

“Love you.” 

“Whatever.”

“So I’m assuming Iwaizumi still doesn’t know about the wedding..?”

Oikawa groans. 

“Obviously not.” 

“Hm.”

“There’s no point in bringing it up until I have a solution.” 

“Normally I would argue with you, but I don’t think it would do any good. I trust you, Tooru. Even if you’re an idiot.”

“Rude.”

“Stupid.”

Oikawa and Suga chat about nothing, about alphas and chocolate and when their next shopping trip will be, until Oikawa pulls back into his driveway. It takes them too long to hang up like it always does, but after he tells Suga he loves him (and makes Suga tell him he loves him back), he ends the call. For a few minutes, he just sits in his car. 

It hasn’t been an hour, and he misses Iwaizumi. 

Oikawa Tooru doesn’t miss alphas. 

Then again, Oikawa Tooru also doesn’t get dressed up for alphas, hold hands with alphas, let alphas call him “boyfriend.” He blames his father for whatever fucked up commitment issues these are. More than that, he blames the gods for making him an omega, because he wouldn't be like this to begin with if he weren't an omega. 

He breathes in through his nose, sighs out of his mouth. 

There’s a lot to think about. He doesn’t like thinking about these kinds of things. 

But he doesn’t have to for long, because his phone buzzes on his dashboard and a happy shiver runs up his body as he checks the notification. 

**_New Message_ **

**_from:_ ** **iwa-chaaan** 💖 

_11:51 PM_

___________

 **Iwa:** _No class tomorrow. Coffee?_

Oikawa doesn’t wait to reply this time. 

**Oikawa** : _black americano, right ?_

 **Iwa:** _Yeah_

 **Iwa:** _You remembered_

 **Oikawa** : _of course i did iwa-chan !!! (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ_

 **Iwa:** _See you tomorrow, Oikawa_

Oikawa should be exhausted, but he spends an hour rolling around his bed before he decides it’s pointless. He’s too giddy, as embarrassing as that is. This stupid smile won’t leave his face. 

He settles in his closet instead, trying to pick out an outfit for tomorrow like Suga would. If only he could stop thinking about black americano.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have sensitive teeth ok!!! (・`ω´・) i respect the ice cream biting community but i’m not apart of it 😔 anyway ,, sakusa in glasses!! gorgeous, beautiful, amazing✨💕 sakuatsu brainrot is very real and i’m a victim >:-(  
> 🥺 i really enjoyed writing this chapter,, soft things and kisses and ice cream. don’t worry, i haven’t forgotten about ushiten! i hope the pacing of everything is flowing well, and i really hope you like this update:)) take care of yourself, okay? i love you! ❤️❤️  
> brb going to watch the new episode ~


	10. Chapter 10

Iwaizumi can’t remember the last time he was excited about coffee. 

He sort of wishes that wasn’t the word to describe this feeling, _excited,_ this grinning as he brushes his teeth, because he’s in his twenties, and up until recently, omegas have been nothing more than background noise. 

But even when he was dating, the guy he dated back in high school, the handful of omegas he’s had flings with over the last few years, none of them made coffee exciting. None of them made him laugh to himself as he washes his face, as he digs out cologne he hasn’t put on in a year probably. A happy feeling all over his body, because of coffee.

It’s not his hormones, either. Just pure, stupid excitement about getting coffee with Oikawa Tooru. 

He wishes he could remember the date Oikawa came to the carwash for the first time. Sometime back in late May? Early June? That could be a cool anniversary, even though they made it official last night and he shouldn’t be thinking about anniversaries yet. His head is too muddled, too fuzzy and warm and buzzing with memories of Oikawa’s eyes to care. The most important date is July 23rd, anyway, because that was the date of yesterday. 

Yesterday, when Oikawa had cherry juice on his fingers and starlight on his cheeks as he said, “I’m your boyfriend.” 

Their real anniversary. 

Iwaizumi runs his tongue over his teeth, shaking his head with another smile he doesn’t try to hold back, doesn’t want to hold back. He could start humming. Fucking _humming._ But at least he still has enough self-respect not to. God, he’s just so _happy._

Pretty much any good adjective could be used to describe this growing, quivering, warming sensation blossoming out of his chest, out of his goddamn heart as cliche as that is. Like everything in the whole goddamn world could go wrong, but it would be okay because he’s getting coffee with Oikawa. Because Oikawa’s eyes look like _that_ when the sun is setting. 

It’s supposed to feel like this. And if he had known that, maybe he would’ve taken Matsukawa’s advice about dating sooner. 

He’s really fucked in the head if he just thought anything Matsukawa suggests is ever a good idea. 

Maybe he’s been fucked in the head ever since Oikawa showed up in his life. 

He spends a little more time than usual on his appearance, although doing anything is more than what he typically does. A little gel in his hair, some extra mouthwash, a nice shirt he pulled from the back of his closet. As he rubs mint chapstick over his lips, he wonders if Oikawa tastes like cherries. 

It’s just coffee. 

But it doesn’t feel like just coffee. 

Iwaizumi’s too preoccupied with getting ready to think about how strange it is that Sakusa should’ve come back last night. He did text him after all, but Sakusa didn’t come back. Instead, he hears their apartment door open and shut just as he’s hurrying into the kitchen, wallet and socks in hand. Sakusa glances up at him, then back down at his feet, slipping out of his shoes. 

“Hey, Sakusa.” Iwaizumi sits on their couch to put his socks on. “How was your week? Everything go okay?” 

Sakusa heaves his luggage out of the genkan. “It was good. Surprisingly.”

“Good, good. That’s great to hear.”

Sakusa nods. 

“I did all my laundry, by the way.” Iwaizumi adds. “Like you asked. Everything else, I pretty much left everything else alone. I’ll leave you to it.”

“It’ll probably take me the rest of the day to disinfect. Can you find something to do until this evening?”

Iwaizumi thinks of Oikawa and black americano. 

“Yeah. Yeah, definitely. Take your time. Do your thing.”

“Thank you.” 

“Was the hotel nice?”

There’s a moment of silence, which Iwaizumi would’ve been more receptive of on a normal day, but it’s not a normal day, and he doesn’t notice how quiet Sakusa is until he looks up from his socks. Sakusa’s staring in the empty sink, probably criticizing Iwaizumi’s cleaning job. 

“I didn’t stay at a hotel.”

“Oh.” 

“I stayed with my boyfriend.” 

Sakusa tows his suitcase back to his room as he says it, passing Iwaizumi on the couch with a scent that is indisputably omega on his clothes. And even then, Iwaizumi still doesn’t believe it. Sakusa Kiyoomi, dating someone. Dating an omega. 

A multitude of questions threaten to pour out of Iwaizumi’s mouth, but he has to remember Sakusa’s private life is particularly private, even if they have been roommates for about a year. It doesn’t concern him. Still… 

“Seriously? I had no idea that you were in a relationship.”

Sakusa stops outside his bedroom door, peering at Iwaizumi over his shoulder. “You’re actually the first person I’ve told. But, yes. I hope that doesn’t cause you any trouble. I don’t see how it could.” 

“Oh, no, not at all. I’m just- I’m just surprised. That’s great, though. Really great.” Iwaizumi stands up. “Are you happy? I mean, do they make you happy?” 

Sakusa narrows his eyes. He does that a lot, now that Iwaizumi thinks about it. 

He looks away, down at his doorknob. 

“Yes. He makes me happy.” 

Iwaizumi nods. He isn’t sure what else to say, not without asking something too personal. 

“Iwaizumi.” Sakusa says after a moment. “Are you sure you’re not dating that omega?”

“You mean the omega from the other night?” 

“Yes. You fell asleep in his car. How could I forget.” 

“Right.” Iwaizumi swallows. A lot has changed within the last twenty-four hours. “Well, when you asked about him originally, we weren’t together, like I told you. But, actually, we started dating this week. Yesterday, officially.” 

Sakusa looks back up at him. “Yesterday.”

“Yeah.”

“He didn’t come inside, did he?”

“No, not last time or this time. I know you’re not comfortable with that.” 

Sakusa nods again. But Iwaizumi can’t help but feel like he tenses up.

“Okay. Thank you.” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

For a moment, Sakusa lingers outside his bedroom door, like there’s something else he wants to say. Something he wants to ask, maybe. But he doesn’t, and he disappears into his room soon enough. 

Iwaizumi chalks it up to be Sakusa’s social anxiety. 

His mind is already wandering, as he makes sure he has his keys and wallet and phone, to thoughts of cherries for the second time this morning. His muscles remember how to lock the door behind him, take him to the elevator, down to the lobby and onto the street, towards the coffee shop they agreed on last night, a good thing since his mind is so distracted. 

It’s a pretty morning, with clear sunlight that hasn’t made the cement too hot just yet, and clouds the same consistency as Oikawa’s hands. His hair under moonlight.

Again, he’s reminded of how Oikawa’s eyes looked last night. Damn, that was embarrassing. It was worth it, though, because the way Oikawa giggled at the way his words tripped over themselves, his smile, it was prettier than the light. 

Good thing the omega didn’t make him say that, too. 

Iwaizumi steps into the little coffee shop, the place he likes to go to when he isn’t rushing, grabbing a cup from his apartment’s lobby. He orders a black americano, but as he starts to order for Oikawa, he realizes he doesn’t know what he drinks. 

Something sweet? Like a frappuccino maybe? He likes chocolate, doesn’t he? Or maybe something simple, like iced coffee with cream and sugar. No, not simple. Thinking back to Oikawa’s ice cream, he decides anything simple and anything Oikawa Tooru can’t coincide. 

The bell above the shop door jingles as Iwaizumi’s debating it. 

He smells his pumpkin before he sees him. Oikawa’s pumpkin, his cherry blossoms. 

It’s unfair, really, how the moment Oikawa pulls open the door, steps into the coffee shop with warm eyes searching for Iwaizumi, a cloud must drift away from the sun, because a sudden burst of sunlight drenches him and the breeze of the opening door ruffles his shirt at the same moment, a white collared shirt, like a Roman angel, and he’s a painting. 

Oikawa doesn’t make it easy, especially not when he’s like this. 

Iwaizumi blinks. It’s over. 

He blinks again, and Oikawa’s lighting up as he finds Iwaizumi standing in front of the register, walking towards him with a smile on pink lips. 

The moment is over, but he’s still a painting. 

“Iwa-chan, good morning!”

“Morning, Oikawa.” 

“What? Are my eyes shining again?” Oikawa teases as he joins him at the register. 

“No.” The alpha pretends to look at the drinks and pastries listed on the chalkboard above them. His hands are balled into fists in his pockets out of something like embarrassment. “How are you?”

“I bet my eyes are shining and you’re just not telling me.” Oikawa huffs. “But otherwise, I’m fine. What about you?”

The barista interrupts then, as she hands Iwaizumi his coffee. “Would you like anything else?” 

“Yeah, whatever he wants.” Iwaizumi gestures towards Oikawa, steps back so the omega can order. 

“Oh! I’ll have a mocha iced coffee, the largest size you have, with cream and sugar. Extra everything, if that’s okay. Especially extra cream. Extra, extra cream.” 

Iwaizumi pulls some cash out of his back pocket while the barista makes Oikawa’s drink, both of them giving the oblivious omega a strange look. 

“That’s basically a milkshake.” Iwaizumi says. 

“No. It’s coffee.”

“Barely. It’s more cream than coffee.”

“I don’t expect you to understand. Black coffee is so bitter, it’s gross.”

“It wakes me up. That’s the whole point of caffeine, isn’t it?”

“You can have caffeine that tastes good, too, you know.” Oikawa takes his coffee from the barista’s hand, swirling the ice around with his straw. 

“Yeah, and you can have coffee that tastes good without watering it down with an obscene amount of cream and sugar.”

“It’s the perfect amount, excuse you. Just admit you lack taste and we can move on, okay?” 

“If anyone lacks taste, it’s you, after whatever the hell you got at the ice cream place last night.” 

“Really, Iwa-chan? Do you really want to bring that up now?”

“Just saying.”

“Okay, then let me remind you that normal people don’t bite their ice cream.”

“Weak. Plus you can’t handle black coffee, so that makes you even weaker.”

“So rude!”

“I’m good, by the way.” Iwaizumi pulls out Oikawa’s chair as they sit down at a table near the air-conditioning. “You asked before you ordered. I’m happy to see you.”

Oikawa stirs his drink again, slipping into his seat. “Of course you’re happy to see me.” 

“I mean,” Iwaizumi sits down across from him. “Yeah. You are my boyfriend.”

Iwaizumi kind of hopes he imagined the way Oikawa tenses, his lips awkwardly bump his straw and eyes widening. It’s cute as hell, but Iwaizumi’s chest feels uneasy for a moment. 

Too soon? They talked about this yesterday, though. Too straightforward? But Iwaizumi’s always been blunt, or at least he doesn’t beat around the bush, that sort of thing. Wait, why is he overthinking calling the boy he’s dating his boyfriend? 

Thank god it’s only for a moment. 

Oikawa takes a sip, and then he bites his lip as he looks up at Iwaizumi under eyelashes too beautiful to be allowed. He leans back in his chair, shoulders relaxed and legs crossed and a rare shade of rose dusting his nose. He giggles. 

That’s all Iwaizumi needs to breathe again. 

“Don’t look like that, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa giggles again between sips, leaning toward the alpha. 

“Like what?”

“Like you stopped breathing.”

He’s not wrong, so Iwaizumi just grumbles something and distracts himself with his coffee. 

This is the part of feelings he doesn’t like. The all-or-nothing. How he can smile like an idiot all morning thinking about Oikawa, but then his goddamn heart stops when he misinterprets the way the omega drinks his coffee, or even if he didn’t misinterpret it, he overthought it, and now he’s overthinking if it was a misinterpretation or overthinking to begin with. 

And there’s another shitty thing about feelings, making him overthink stupid shit when Iwaizumi Hajime is not an overthinker in the slightest. Except when it comes to Oikawa, apparently. 

The omega abruptly thrusts his drink in front of Iwaizumi’s face. “You should try this.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“You won’t know if you don’t like it until you try it!”

“Actually, I can tell just by looking at it that I won’t like it.”

“That’s not how this works, Iwa-chan.” 

“Sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not trying your chocolate milk, Oikawa.”

“Oh my god, are you- It’s coffee!”

“I don’t know what the hell it is, but it's not coffee.” 

Oikawa crinkles his nose, drags his cup back to his side of the table. If only he didn’t have that adorable pout on his face. This has to be some form of manipulation. 

“Fine.” Iwaizumi sighs. “I’ll try it.” 

The omega lights up like Iwaizumi agreed to something much more exciting than having a sip of his iced coffee, and that has to be some form of manipulation, too. 

“Prepare to have your life changed,” Oikawa says as he extends his cup, but he yanks it away from Iwaizumi’s hands. “No, no, I’ve got it.” He leans across their table further, positioning his straw just under Iwaizumi’s lips. 

“Oh, uh,” Iwaizumi hesitates, but sets his hands on the table. “Okay.” 

He takes a sip. 

Before he even swallows, he resists the urge to gag. 

“I’m gonna puke.” Iwaizumi pushes Oikawa’s hand away, shakes his head, his face screwing up into an expression that matches the way his taste buds feel. “I was wrong.”

“Wait, you like it?”

“No. I was wrong about it tasting like chocolate milk. It’s just cream. Literally just cream.” He’s still making a face as he chugs out of his own cup. “I gotta rinse my palette, holy shit.” 

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Oikawa rolls his eyes. “It’s good and you know it.”

“The only thing I know is you have the worst sweet tooth of anyone I’ve ever met.” 

“You’re just like Daichi-san.”

Iwaizumi wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Your best friend’s fiancé, right? The alpha from the restaurant?”

“Yeah, Koushi’s fiancé. God, he’s boring. Not that I don’t love Koushi, and I totally support whoever he decides he wants to bond with, but I mean, Daichi-san’s just so boring. He laughed at my coffee order, too, since he only drinks black, like you do.” 

“How’d they meet?” 

“You’re not gonna believe this.”

“Oh, yeah?” 

Oikawa smiles, shielding his mouth like he’s going to tell some earth-shattering secret. “They met on a helicopter.” 

“Oh.”

“Oh? That’s it?”

“Yeah..?” Iwaizumi lifts an eyebrow. “I mean, that’s not as crazy as I thought it was going to be. He’s rich, isn’t he? Your friend?” 

“Well, yeah, but that’s besides the point. I don’t know, I just think it’s weird! Who meets their future mate on a helicopter ride? It’s _too_ romantic.” 

“I’ll make a mental note to avoid helicopter dates, then.”

Oikawa nudges his leg under the table. Iwaizumi smirks. 

“How long have they been together?” The alpha asks. “They’re getting married soon, aren’t they?” 

“In December. But they haven’t been together that long, actually. Eight months.” 

“Damn, seriously?”

“It’s a wealthy family thing.” Oikawa gestures with his hand like it should be obvious. “They want to marry off the omegas as soon as possible. If Koushi hadn’t met Daichi, he probably would’ve been married to some random alpha his parents picked out by now.” 

“Damn.” Iwaizumi repeats, tapping his finger against the side of his cup. “I had no idea your families were so traditional. I guess no bonding until marriage, then.”

Oikawa nods. He stares at the ice in his coffee. “That’s the rule.” 

The bell above the door jingles as someone walks in, and they both look up. A woman on her way to work, probably. 

“What about you?”

“Hm?” Oikawa looks back at him, but Iwaizumi’s still watching the woman. He might recognize her. Maybe from a dream. “What about me?”

“About your family. The whole marriage thing.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, unless that’s a touchy subject.” Iwaizumi looks back at Oikawa. “I’m just curious. I doubt they know about me.” 

“They don’t.”

“Right. Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

“My father is controlling. I think I’ve mentioned something like that before. He’s set up plenty of suitors for me over the years, even though I always rejected them.” Oikawa becomes strangely calm as he talks. No fidgeting, no broken eye contact. Iwaizumi can’t help but feel like the omega’s anxious, like this. “I couldn’t tell you how many alphas I’ve rejected if I tried, to be honest. But I don’t think my father would be happy to know about you. That we’re seeing each other, you know.”

“Makes sense.”

“For a lot of reasons, though, not just personal reasons. Not that there’s anything about you personally he wouldn’t like. Nothing about you as a person, just-”

“Oikawa, I get it.” Iwaizumi reaches across the table for the omega’s hand. “It’s okay if it’s because I’m broke. I don’t know your father, but I think I understand that. Even if it had something to do with me as a person, like I give a fuck what he thinks. Alright?” 

Iwaizumi rubs his thumb along Oikawa’s hand, like he always finds himself doing. He doesn’t think Oikawa would admit how much he likes it, but it has a strange effect on the omega, like his skin, his whole body leans into the feeling. 

Oikawa takes a breath. 

“Alright. But I think he has a lot more say in my life than you realize. I need to know that you understand that.” 

“You’re an adult.” 

“I’m- Yes, obviously I’m an adult. But-”

“So it shouldn’t matter what your dad thinks, right? He seems like a shitty guy if you ask me.”

“Yeah, yes, I hate him, honest to god. He absolutely is a shitty guy, but what I’m trying to say is-” 

“Then fuck him.” Iwaizumi doesn’t understand why Oikawa’s so tense. Why he hasn’t blinked for what seems like too long. “It’s your life, you shouldn’t let him have so much control.” 

“Do you really think it’s my choice?” 

“No, but you’re an adult.” 

“But I’m an omega.” 

“So?” 

It really has been too long since Oikawa blinked because a few tears break his waterline. They’re quick. Too quick for Iwaizumi to stop with his finger. 

“Shit, Oikawa, did I say something?” Iwaizumi bumps the table, nearly spills his coffee as he leans forward with panicked eyes, bringing his hands to Oikawa’s cheeks. “What’s wrong? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- to upset you. Dammit, I’m sorry.” 

Oikawa shoves Iwaizumi’s hands away, blinking and pushing hair behind his ear and straightening his shirt. A few more tears leave trails through his concealer. His entire face thrums pink. It takes all of Iwaizumi’s sanity to remain seated with his hands flat on the table. 

Genuinely, he genuinely doesn’t know what he said, other than maybe Oikawa’s father is a touchy subject, and _fuck_ , he should’ve picked up on that. He spirals, and as he spirals, Oikawa stands up, adjusting his purse like he’s going to leave, and _shit, please don’t leave._

“Iwaizumi.” 

Oikawa glares at him. 

He shouldn’t look so pretty like this. Crying.

“Kiss me.” 

Iwaizumi definitely wasn’t expecting that. Those words and Oikawa’s tears and the way he’s looking at Iwaizumi like he’d rather slap him than kiss him, it doesn't make sense. It doesn’t make any goddamn sense. 

“You…” Iwaizumi doesn’t move. “You mean… Now? Right here?”

“Obviously.” 

“I don’t… I thought… You were-”

“Iwaizumi Hajime.” Oikawa snaps. “If you don’t kiss me in the next five seconds, I’m walking out of this coffee shop.” 

But he’s smiling. There are tears staining his cheeks, but he’s smiling at Iwaizumi and his eyes, they’re shining like they were last night, gleaming eyelashes and lips that might taste like cherries. 

Maybe if those words did make sense, then it wouldn’t be Oikawa. 

Iwaizumi still doesn’t completely trust himself to move, but he stands up, grabs Oikawa’s hand, tugs him along out the front doors onto the sidewalk. Their coffees are still at their table, abandoned with pulled out chairs and tears on the wood floor. Neither of them care. Neither of them pay attention to where they’re going, either, a breathless flurry of _“Excuse us”_ and _“Sorry, sorry.”_

Iwaizumi doesn’t stop, holding onto Oikawa’s hand like it’s the only touch he recognizes, until they turn onto a relatively empty block. One of those lulls without cars, more birds than people and music than voices. One of those streets with a few trees planted by the city forming nooks in between the buildings. 

Iwaizumi doesn’t stop until they fall into the shade of one of those trees. He takes a slow breath, remembering the way this played out in his imagination. This is a bit more spontaneous than he imagined it being, but that’s alright. 

It’s alright. It’s Oikawa. 

“Iwa...”

“I know.” 

He rests his hands lightly on Oikawa’s shoulders, rubbing his fingertips into his skin. Oikawa watches Iwaizumi. His body is bound like it might snap any moment under Iwaizumi’s hands. 

But all it takes is Iwaizumi's finger grazing the omega’s scent glands for him to loosen up, his tension dissipating with a small sound like a whimper. 

Oikawa never struck Iwaizumi as one of those omegas who comes undone with gentle touches to their neck like some do. He’s glad he was wrong. 

Iwaizumi brings one hand to cup Oikawa’s jaw, the other to Oikawa’s waist. He smiles at how Oikawa nuzzles into his hand, his eyes closed now. He could look at this Oikawa all day for the rest of his life. 

His lips brush Oikawa’s cheek, trail his jaw as he pulls him closer. 

And then Iwaizumi kisses him. 

Of the few first kisses Iwaizumi’s had before, they never lasted more than a few seconds. He has no complaints that his first kiss with Oikawa seems to transcend time, though, static lips pressed together turning into something more, Iwaizumi slowly letting his instincts dictate his movements. His grip tightens on Oikawa’s waist, and somehow Oikawa’s jaw falls even more slack. There’s a new scent overwhelming them, their pheromones mingling in a strange way, an incredible way that Iwaizumi’s mind is too clouded to begin to think about. 

Iwaizumi doesn’t know what this feels like. 

As if his heart didn’t start beating until the moment he felt Oikawa’s lips under his. 

Is there a word for that? 

_Oikawa._

It takes the blare of a car horn up the street for them to come back to reality. Iwaizumi doesn’t move his hands, though. Oikawa doesn’t pull away, either. 

Iwaizumi blinks, breathes because he didn’t realize how out of breath he’d become. He doesn’t know how long they kissed, but the street is still quiet. But when he looks back at Oikawa, the omega’s crying.

Loud tears this time. His chest shakes and eyebrows tremble as he struggles, fails to compose himself. His nose is running, and his hands squeeze themselves into weak fists at his sides. 

Iwaizumi has a feeling this is about something deeper than their first kiss. He tucks Oikawa’s head against his cheek. 

“Iwa.”

“Yeah?” 

“No one’s kissed me like that before.” 

“What do you mean?”

“So gently, like that.” He whispers, almost hiccups. “Like I could break.” 

“You won’t break.”

Oikawa pulls away enough to kiss Iwaizumi again. 

This kiss is longer. Or maybe it isn’t. 

Only this time it ends because Oikawa starts laughing, uncontrollably laughing against Iwaizumi’s mouth and his breath tastes like strawberries instead of cherries. His pheromones are potent enough that Iwaizumi smells a whiff of sweet happiness from the curve of his neck, too, and other emotions that can only be expressed through scent alone. 

“Iwa, Iwa,” Oikawa gasps amidst his laughter. “Look! Across the street.” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t really want to look away from Oikawa, but he does.

“Oh, wow.” 

“Isn’t that the planetarium?”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi nods. He finds Oikawa’s hand, gives it a squeeze. “It is.”

“I still don’t forgive you for rejecting me that day, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa sniffles some more, wiping what remains of his tears on the back of his hand. The pink swell of his eyelids remain, but he’s teasing now. That’s a good sign. 

“Yeah, well, I was sort of a dick.”

“Sort of?”

“You can’t blame me too much, though.”

“I can and I will.”

“Then let me make it up to you.” 

“How?”

“Coffee every day for a week. Starting tomorrow.”

Oikawa pouts. “Two weeks.”

“Fine.”

“A month.”

“A month?”

“Take it or leave it, Iwa-chan.”

“Guess I don’t have a choice.” Iwaizumi tries not to sound as content with that as he feels. Oikawa could say six months and he would say yes.

A year.

They spend the rest of the morning walking around city streets they already know, fingers intertwined and shoulders bumping as they gravitate closer to each other. Oikawa insists they go window shopping, which consists of the omega gasping at essentially every piece of expensive clothing he sees and dragging Iwaizumi inside to wait for him to try it on. He doesn’t buy anything, though.

“You looked great, seriously. I like you in that color.” Iwaizumi tells him as they leave a boutique with price tags so high he doesn't think he should've been allowed inside. “Why didn’t you get it?”

Oikawa stares behind them longingly, at the blouse in the window. “I know. Teal is my color! But again, it’s my father.”

“He doesn’t let you buy your own clothes?”

“Not if they don’t fit his dress code, since it’s his money. That v-neck would be too low for him.”

“But don’t you have clothes like that already?” 

“Gifts.” Oikawa says simply. “Koushi. Alphas who have courted me before. He still makes me change if he sees me. But he’s not usually home.” 

Iwaizumi swallows down some of the things he’d like to say about Oikawa’s father. The day they meet won’t be pretty. 

He glances behind them, taking note of the store name and what street they’re on. When he looks back forward, Oikawa’s watching him, smiling at him with his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“What?”

“...Nothing.”

They meet at the same coffee shop the next morning, the same time, ordering the same things as they did yesterday and mocking each other’s choices again. Iwaizumi has to head to his shift at the carwash (ignoring the temptation to let Matsukawa handle it and spend the rest of the day with the omega), but they kiss before he has to leave, and Oikawa tastes like strawberries again. 

“No need to thank me.” Matsukawa sighs, slumping beside Iwaizumi an hour later. “I know I’m the best wingman.”

“Please don’t start.”

“Just saying. If I hadn’t intervened, you and Oikawa would have died of sexual frustration by now.”

 _“God.”_ Iwaizumi rubs circles into forehead, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“When did you two make it official?”

“July 23rd.” He replies immediately, and he regrets it. 

Matsukawa smirks. “Knew you were excited.” 

The shift is slow, mainly because Iwaizumi can’t stop thinking about strawberries, and because Matsukawa keeps asking insanely personal questions that make Iwaizumi consider quitting the carwash altogether. He doesn’t expect Oikawa to come today, not when they had coffee this morning and have a date for more coffee tomorrow, the day after that, but in the last ten minutes of their shift, a rose gold BMW careens into the parking lot. 

Iwaizumi digs his tongue into the side of his cheek to stop his grin. 

“Ah. Young love.” Matsukawa crosses his arms, looking from the car to Iwaizumi. 

“I’m older than you.” 

Oikawa pulls up in front of them, but he doesn’t get out, rolling down the passenger window instead. “I don’t need a wash. I’m just here to pick up Iwa-chan.” 

“What?” Iwaizumi freezes.

Matsukawa gives Oikawa a thumbs up. “Gotcha.” And before Iwaizumi really knows what’s going on, the beta is opening the door, shoving Iwaizumi inside, winking at Oikawa, muttering, “Don’t forget to use protection.” 

“Thank you!~” Oikawa shouts out the window, speeding back onto the main road. 

“Where- Oikawa, where are we going?”

“Dinner! Your choice.” 

“Wait, dinner?” Iwaizumi realizes he doesn’t have his seatbelt on as Oikawa narrowly avoids a pothole. “Now?”

“Obviously! Now, what do you want to eat?”

“Why didn’t you text me?”

“I wanted to surprise you. Duh.” 

“My choice?”

Oikawa nods. “I liked the places you’ve taken me to so far.”

“You do?”

“Stop asking dumb questions, Iwa-chan.”

“Okay, okay.” Iwaizumi swallows. “I guess… I think I know a place.”

They eat sushi at an underground shop Iwaizumi went to every weekend as an undergrad. They get coffee the next morning, at a different place across the city. Street food and kebabs for dinner. 

Coffee. Dinner. Shopping. 

Iwaizumi can’t remember the last time he was so damn busy, but the week flies by before he realizes. The next week, and the next week, and their coffee routine continues even when the month passes. Every waking moment spent getting ready for Oikawa, thinking about Oikawa, or being with Oikawa. And at night, his imagination is getting a bit more creative with his dreams about Oikawa, even conjuring one up about Oikawa full and pregnant, with Iwaizumi’s pups. 

He woke up in a cold sweat with a boner after that one. 

They pull into a drive-in a month later, on a Saturday night after Iwaizumi’s shift with more blankets and pillows and candies than the alpha finds necessary for a 90-minute movie. While the trailers play, Oikawa snuggles under Iwaizumi’s arm. He swirls his tongue against a lollipop. Grape-flavored. 

Despite all the time they’ve been spending together, these moments are rare. Cozy moments, cuddling together, fuzzy blankets and the body heat. The closest Iwaizumi’s gotten to Oikawa’s house was when the omega forgot his phone and made Iwaizumi wait at the end of his driveway while he got it. And with Sakusa’s strict no omegas in the apartment policy, they don’t have anywhere to go other than public places and Oikawa’s car.

Needless to say they haven’t done anything more than kiss. Sure, Iwaizumi’s a little frustrated about it, but the last thing he wants to do is rush anything. Not after what little he’s gathered about Oikawa’s life, about pushy alphas and blurry consent. And no matter how horny the omega is, Iwaizumi refuses to let Oikawa suck him off in a public bathroom. (He asked, once.) 

These moments are better than sex, though.

“Iwa.” Oikawa murmurs a few minutes into the movie. 

“Yeah?”

“I can’t see you tomorrow.”

“Oh. That’s alright. You have something going on?”

“Yeah.” Oikawa groans softly into Iwaizumi’s chest. “My father’s throwing this stupid party thing.”

“What’s it for?”

“My birthday, kind of.” 

“Wait, it’s your birthday? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“No, my birthday was a month ago. This is just a belated celebration.”

Iwaizumi sits up, readjusts so he can see Oikawa better. “Well, why didn't you tell me a month ago?” 

“You were in rut.”

“Oh. Shit.”

“No, it’s fine.” 

“It’s not fine.”

“It is fine, Iwa-chan, don’t worry. But all that just to say I won’t be able to see you until Monday.”

Iwaizumi nods. He runs his hand over the top of the omega’s hair. “Okay.”

“I’ll miss you.” Oikawa picks at the hem of the blanket draped over them both. Barely louder than a whisper. “I’ll really miss you.”

“I’ll miss you more.”

He thinks Oikawa says “that’s not possible,” but he can’t hear him over the movie.

* * *

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay? Just for dinner, or wine.” 

Tendou counts on his fingers, then writes something on his clipboard. He shakes his head. “I appreciate the invitation, I really do, Ushijima-san. But I think I should get going once everything is set up.” 

“Are you sure?” Ushijima follows Tendou as he adjusts the chocolate fountain on the dessert table. “Just fifteen minutes? I think you would enjoy yourself.” 

“It’s a family banquet, isn’t it? I think I would be intruding on something private if I stayed.” 

“Not at all. You’re providing the dessert. Inviting you to stay for dinner is the least I can do. I really mean that, Tendou-san.” 

The omega checks off something else before hurrying to a different table to inspect a platter of truffles. He already did all of this, though, double-checked everything. He’s been acting strange since he got here, actually. Since Ushijima told him that the date of the wedding is being announced today. 

Ushijima wishes he knew why. 

“And again, that’s sweet of you. Sweet, sweet, sweet.” He writes something else on his clipboard. From where the alpha is standing, he can sort of see the paper. It’s mostly meaningless scribbles. “But I think everything is finished here, so I’ll be leaving soon, if that’s okay.” 

Is it because of his wealth? Tendou didn’t seem anything more than awestruck when he arrived at the estate a couple hours ago, not cynical in any way. That can’t be it. 

“Let me- Tendou-san, wait a minute.” Ushijima trails after him, feeling a bit helpless as the omega gathers his things and heads to his car out front. “Let me help you carry something.” 

“No need.” 

“Well, let me tip you at least.” 

“Unnecessary.” 

“Please. It’s nothing, really. Just a little something.” 

“You already spent a fortune on chocolate,” Tendou laughs, but it’s dry. “Have a good afternoon with your family. And fiancé.” 

“Tendou-san.”

He loads the last of his things into his trunk. “Ushijima-san?” 

“Are you upset with me?”

Tendou seems to stiffen. He’s facing away from the alpha, but as he reaches around to pull his keys out of his bag, Ushijima’s surprised by how bright his cheeks are. 

“I can’t think of any reason why I should be upset with you. Can you?”

“Well, no. You just seem to be acting differently today.”

“Do you know me well enough to know when I’m acting differently, Ushijima-san?”

Tendou looks him in the eye then. 

Ushijima clears his throat. He still thinks Tendou is upset with him. 

“No. I don’t.”

The omega nods, presses his lips together.

“I wish I did.” Ushijima says. 

Brighter. Tendou’s cheeks somehow turn a brighter shade of red. But he collects himself after a few moments, adjusts the bandana pushing his bangs back. 

He gives a slight bow. “Please enjoy the chocolate.” 

And then Ushijima watches him climb into his car, start the ignition and drive towards the road without a wave, a backwards glance. 

Tendou has to be upset with him. 

Between getting dressed and greeting family members and making sure everything is set up outside before Oikawa’s family arrives, he doesn’t have much time to think about why Tendou might be upset. He’s been looking forward to this banquet since his father announced it. It’s been more than a month since he and Oikawa spent time together. Rationally, Oikawa’s feelings wouldn’t have changed in just one month, but Ushijima finds himself allowing some optimism. Especially with what he has planned today. 

As he fixes his tie in the mirror, he wonders if Oikawa and Tendou would get along. 

Oikawa’s family is the last to arrive. Ushijima greets them with his parents, but once the omega makes his obligatory bows and greetings, he hurries away without a glance in Ushijima’s direction. His father glares after him, muttering something about Oikawa being the reason that they’re late. Ushijima doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal. 

“Koushi!” Oikawa calls out, almost knocking a platter out of a server’s hands as he rushes to Suga’s table. “Please, dear god, save me. I’m so glad my father let me invite you two.” 

Suga gives him a sympathetic smile. “I went ahead and made you a glass of red. Come, sit, breathe.”

“Hey, Oikawa. Here, I’ll just grab another chair.” Daichi offers his seat to the omega, and Oikawa doesn’t object. He tilts his head back, tips the glass against his lips and forces more wine down his throat than he can bear. Red dribbles down his lip, but Suga catches it with his napkin before it stains his clothes. 

“That bad, huh.” Daichi pulls another chair up beside Suga. 

“Worse than that.” Suga sighs. “I can’t believe you agreed to leave the house in that, Tooru.” 

Oikawa nearly chokes as he thrusts his glass onto the table. “I want to fucking die, Koushi.” 

It’s the hottest stretch of summer, attending a banquet outside without much shade, and his father forced him into a wool turtleneck of all things, the color of charcoal and just as suffocating. His khakis are something a grandfather might wear, and that speaks for itself. These scent patches irritate his neck, too. All sweaty, itchy, fucking miserable. 

“Come on, you don’t look awful.” Suga rubs his thigh, but Oikawa knows he’s suppressing a laugh.

“Yeah, right.”

Oikawa surveys the other guests and tables stacked with all sorts of food and drinks, but chocolate more than anything. 

“Why is there so much fucking chocolate?” He crinkles his nose as he counts not one, but three different chocolate fountains, drenching pieces of strawberries and pineapples. “Ushijima’s been obsessed with chocolate lately.” 

“He must think you really like it.” Suga says. 

“Okay, even if I did, don’t you think this is a bit much? Way too much. Who orders this much chocolate for a stupid banquet?” 

“You’re overthinking it, babe.” 

_“Oh my god.”_ Oikawa suddenly gasps. “Oh my fucking god. What the fuck is _he_ doing here?” 

“Who…?” Suga turns in his seat, following Oikawa’s gaze to a different table across the lawn. “Oh my god, Tooru. Is that…?”

“Yeah. Yes. I swear to god, it’s him.” 

“Who are we staring at?” Daichi asks.

“Kageyama Tobio.” The omegas answer in perfect unison. 

Kageyama seems to have noticed Oikawa glaring at him, given the uncomfortable way he’s fidgeting with his fingers and the blush on his cheeks, but he tries to appear busy talking to an alpha at his table.

Daichi peers over Suga’s shoulder. “Uh, who?” 

“His father and my father made him court me a few years ago. God, he was the most awkward alpha I’ve ever had to deal with.” Oikawa groans. “You know what, I bet my mother invited his family. I think she’s still friends with Kageyama’s parents.”

“Who’s the guy next to him?” Suga asks, pointing at a boy with painfully orange hair beside Kageyama. 

“Oh, that’s his omega. They bonded after dating for a few months, I think. It was a whole thing. Hinata something..? Hinata Shoyo, I think. Or I guess it’s Kageyama Shoyo now.” 

As if on cue, Hinata slings his arms over Kageyama’s neck and nuzzles into him. Oikawa makes a gagging noise. 

“Yikes.” Suga whispers. 

“How embarrassing for them.” Oikawa whispers back. 

A server brings a platter of appetizers to their table, momentarily disrupting the omega’s people-watching entertainment. Oikawa downs another glass of wine, and then shovels a rude amount of pickled vegetables into his mouth. He hopes his father is watching with disappointment. 

“Tooru.” Suga nods towards one of the chocolate fountains. “Who’s Ushijima talking to?” 

“Hm? Oh, that’s his best friend or something. I met him once. Semi Eita.” Oikawa’s hard to understand with his mouth full, but Suga nods. 

“What about stupid haircut boy?” 

Oikawa snorts at that. “That is Semi’s omega. Shirabu, if I remember correctly.” 

Another round of food is placed on their table. Crab. It reminds Oikawa of the meal he had with Iwaizumi last weekend. But no, he won’t start crying, not in front of all these people. 

There’s no way in hell that Iwaizumi misses him more than Oikawa does. 

As if he can tell what Oikawa’s thinking, Suga nudges him and says, “You better have enjoyed yourself over the last month since you skipped two mall trips.”

“I’m sorry! I am sorry, Koushi, really.” Oikawa gives Suga pleading eyes, bringing his palms together in front of his face. “We need to go as soon as possible. I’ve just been… you know.”

Suga smirks, raises an eyebrow. “I know very well.” 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Daichi says abruptly, “but I think your father’s calling you, Oikawa.” 

Daichi’s right. His father is beckoning him towards the front of the group, with Ushijima already by his side. 

It’s happening earlier than he thought it would.

The announcement. 

It takes Suga kicking him under the table for Oikawa to stand up. His mouth is dry, and his hands feel heavy, his whole body feels hot. It’s hard to swallow. Suga mouths something like _I love you_ , but Oikawa can’t be sure. It doesn’t make him feel better either way. 

By the time he gets to his father’s side, his hands are trembling. Ushijima smiles at him in the corner of his eye, but that makes him feel nauseous. He catches a glimpse of a small box in Ushijima’s palm, too, black and velvet, and it feels like there isn’t enough blood in his body anymore. 

“Excuse me, everyone!” Oikawa’s father taps a knife against a glass, until chatter dissipates into quiet anticipation. 

Every set of eyes watching Oikawa leaves a burned mark on his skin. It stings, like fingertips on stovetops. It hurts. 

Suddenly, this is real. 

He’s been able to make excuse after excuse for months now, longer than that. Pretending like this was all just a hypothetical. 

But this is all real. 

“Thank you all for coming out this afternoon.” His father goes on. “I couldn’t be prouder to officially announce the marriage between Ushijima Wakatoshi and my own son, Oikawa Tooru.” A brief pause, and clapping. It’s muffled, to Oikawa. He can’t hear anything very well. “I look forward to our families coming together. After careful planning, the wedding will be held on March 1st of this coming year. Of course, you are all invited. Please join me in congratulating these two.” 

More applause. 

Oikawa doesn’t think he’s breathing quite right. 

“Ushijima-san?” His father steps aside, gesturing for the alpha to step forward. 

“Thank you.” Ushijima bows slightly. He bows to the group, as well. “Thank you everyone.” He opens the little box in his hands. “Now, I’d like to present Oikawa with a bonding ring.” 

More applause, and sweet sounds from the omegas in the group. 

Oikawa can’t fully process what’s going on around him, other than there’s a rough hand on his, and cold metal dragging across his finger. It burns. A bonding ring? 

Those are unheard of these days. Something they did fifty years ago, when an alpha presented an omega with a ring as a promise to bond. A broadcast to the world that an omega will be bonded soon. Oikawa hasn’t seen one in person before.

But now there’s one on his own finger. 

He jerks his head up, searching for Suga in the group, anything familiar to tell him this isn’t real, or that it is real. Everyone is standing and clapping. He can’t hear it, but he sees their hands moving. Sugawara. He can’t find Sugawara. Where’s Sugawara? 

Instead, his eyes land on someone else. 

Someone standing at the back of the crowd, out of place. 

Oikawa’s heart stops beating. 

He sees the look on Iwaizumi’s face, and his heart stops beating. 

_Iwaizumi._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don’t hate me but oikawa’s coffee order is based on my own 😳 does it taste like chocolate milk more than anything? maybe .. but it’s GOOD and i live by that. ((me dropping my otps because i can *cough* kagehina and semishira *cough*))  
> anyway, iwa-chan found out ... god i love cliffhangers
> 
> btw to clairfy oikawa's age: at the beginning of this fic, he’s 24, but now after his birthday (july 20) he’s 25! iwa is also 25 ^^
> 
> if you have any upcoming assessments, good luck! you got this 💕 if you haven’t eaten today, go eat something!! and if you haven’t heard this recently, you are doing enough and i’m so proud of you :) much love, talk to you next update ! ! 🥰


	11. Chapter 11

Harumi tucks the last pillow under her chin. She fits the pillowcase over it, resting it beside the others on Oikawa’s bed. 

His bedside table looks a bit disheveled, so she straightens the books (a manga he hasn’t started yet) and arranges the chapsticks in a neat little row (strawberry, watermelon, and cherry flavors) and blows some dust off the picture frame (some goofy polaroids he and Suga took last spring). She stares at the photos. At Oikawa, mainly. 

She sets the frame down, turns and inspects the rest of his bedroom to make sure she didn’t miss anything. Sheets washed and changed, water cups relocated to the kitchen (she keeps telling him to stop hoarding them). The floor has been swept and mopped. His laundry is done, folded, put away. 

She usually trims the outside flowers once his bedroom is finished, but Harumi finds herself sitting on the edge of Oikawa’s bed, running her hand over the comforter. She lies back, sighing. 

It’s rare for her to take a break during the day. Especially like this, arms spread and eyes slipping shut. 

Oikawa’s bed is the comfiest in the house. Harumi was the one who picked it out.

She opens her eyes. His ceiling is white, and sunlight streaming in through the window ripples across the paint. 

It’s probably around two o’clock. Oikawa and his parents should be arriving at the Ushijima estate soon. 

The morning was hectic, to say the least. Harumi had to drag Oikawa out of bed when his alarm clock didn’t wake him up, and he locked himself in the bathroom for thirty minutes until Harumi got the key, because she has a key for every door in the house that Oikawa has locked himself in over the years. And of course he fought with his father about what he was going to wear, even though his father spent good money having an outfit tailored for the banquet today. 

It bothers her that he didn’t cry once, though. He was his usual moody self all morning, sassy and just irritating enough that Harumi almost thought he seemed normal. 

But she knows him well enough to know there was something sad about him. In the way he looked at himself in the mirror.

Oikawa Tooru is a fortunate omega. He comes from a wealthy family with connections. He’s engaged to an alpha that sees him as a person. He’s educated. Everything that Harumi didn’t have. 

Harumi’s in her late fifties now. She grew up in this city, raised by two omega parents who struggled to find work. Not that much has changed, unfortunately, since omegas still lack the same opportunities betas and alphas have. She’s lucky to have gotten this job a few months after Oikawa was born. It pays fine, and she gets three meals a day and a place to live. 

She was engaged, once. But that alpha didn’t see her as a person. That alpha, that woman didn’t care when she left Harumi in a rundown apartment with a sink that didn’t work, broke and pregnant. 

The pregnancy didn’t go to term. Harumi was relieved at the time, but she had nightmares. For years, she had nightmares. She didn’t stop having nightmares until she held Oikawa for the first time. 

Oikawa might be a fortunate omega, but his life is somewhat of a tragedy. 

As much as Harumi preaches at him, scolds him when he takes what he has for granted, she hears the things his mother says about him when he’s not home. She sees the nothingness in his father’s eyes while they eat dinner. He’s engaged to an alpha he hates. 

Harumi’s parents genuinely loved her. The same can’t be said for him. 

She reaches for one of Oikawa’s freshly fluffed pillow, hugging it to her chest and burying her nose into it. She breathes in. It smells like fabric softener, and it smells like Tooru. 

Maybe his parents loved him when he was a baby. They were busy people, though, back then, and Harumi accidentally became a nanny. 

They became inseparable, Oikawa and Harumi. She knew him better than his parents, knew his favorite everything. She had a suspicion he would present as an omega, too, but she kept that to herself. 

Oikawa was a happy baby. He cried constantly, maybe more than other babies, and he didn’t sleep through a full night until he was a year old. But he laughed more than other babies. The cutest smile, the silliest babbling noises. Oikawa giggled at everything, and Harumi laughed right along with him, holding him close and looking into those big, brown eyes of his. 

And then he presented early, when he was just eleven years old. 

Maybe that was when his parents stopped loving him. 

Oikawa stopped laughing at everything. 

The courting started when he turned sixteen, his second year of high school. Oikawa, who had matured into something of a brat, learned how to manipulate. He learned what made alphas lose their minds, how to get what he wanted from them. From everyone. He entered his rebellious phase with a burning vengeance, and that’s when his wardrobe changed, his motives, the glimmer in his eyes.

His father called him a slut. His father still calls him a slut, calls him a whore for wearing sheer lace and platform heels and booty shorts. 

Oikawa started coming home late a few months after he turned eighteen, from weeknights out clubbing and sleeping with alphas he didn’t know. He became addicted to those nights. He became addicted to making alphas want him. 

Harumi was angry at him, at first, worried that he would end up in the same situation that she did. 

But he cried. Every late night when he stumbled in at two, three o’clock in the morning, fell into bed fully dressed with his makeup still on, he cried into his pillows. He probably thought no one knew, but Harumi sat outside his room on those nights, her back against his door, and she listened to him cry. 

She cried right along with him. 

Because all Oikawa wants is validation. He distracts himself with strangers and sex, gets high on counterfeit adoration. If he can feel loved for fifteen minutes, he’ll do whatever it takes to feel it again, again, again. He never learned how to deal with his emotions. He might not realize just how sad he is. 

And that’s what breaks Harumi’s heart. 

To her, he still has chubby cheeks and needs to be rocked to sleep. Whose kneecaps she kissed when he fell off the swingset. Who crawled into her bed when he had a bad dream. Who got whipped cream on his nose when they drank hot chocolate together on cold mornings. 

Harumi used to wonder why she was born, but now she’s sure it was to love Oikawa. 

And now there might be someone else who loves Oikawa. 

Harumi is still hesitant about the Iwaizumi Hajime situation, but she hasn’t seen Oikawa smile as much as he has over the last month since he was a baby. He’s really smiling. 

Instead of crying into his pillow when he comes home at night, Harumi swears she heard him giggling last week. 

Ushijima hasn’t made Oikawa smile like that a day in his life, after years of being acquainted. But Iwaizumi Hajime has. 

She doesn’t know how, she has no idea how, but Harumi does not intend on letting Ushijima bond Oikawa. Even if it’s the last thing she does, she won’t let the wedding happen. 

She pulls herself up. It really is time for her to trim the flowers now, so she sets his pillow back down where it was and does a final sweep of the room as she stands, smooths invisible wrinkles out of her pants. 

Her eyes fall on Oikawa’s mirror. Black eyes, crinkled around the edges, and black hair tied up on her head, getting thinner as years pass. She has a slightly darker skin tone than Oikawa, and plenty more wrinkles than he’ll probably ever have. 

She doesn’t look anything like Oikawa. 

Clippers and compost bag in hand, Harumi treks to the end of the driveway, humming to herself. The melody of one of Oikawa’s favorite lullabies. 

It’s not until she rounds the corner to the last stretch of the driveway that she sees the taxi. 

A man steps out of the backseat. He’s broad, and pretty tall once he’s standing up straight. His arms are muscled, straining against his short-sleeved shirt, just like his thighs. 

Harumi doesn’t mean to look, but it’s hard not to. His hair is black, or maybe dark brown in the right amount of sunlight. It sticks up in places, but it looks good on him. 

He’s handsome. 

They’re not standing too close, either, but she picks up on his scent. Alpha, no doubt about it. 

Harumi’s eyes widen. 

As soon as the man turns, he sees her. He freezes. 

He’s clutching a blue gift bag. His eyes get wide, too, and his mouth falls open a little, like he’s going to say something but isn't sure what. A deer in highlights. 

And then he spins around, yanking the backdoor of the taxi back open. 

“Wait!” Harumi cries out. She drops her clippers on the ground, hurrying forward with her hands out in front of her. “Wait, please.” 

The alpha freezes again. He looks over his shoulder at her, but his hand is still clutching the door handle. The driver must say something, because he flinches, ducks into the car for a moment, and then he stands up. He’s conflicted, but he shuts the door closed again. 

He swallows as he turns back to Harumi. The gift bag crinkles in his hand. 

“Can I help you?” Harumi asks. 

“Uh, well, I was just- I was just dropping something off.” He gestures to the bag, swallows again. “For Oikawa. I mean, Oikawa-san. Oikawa Tooru, to clarify.” 

“Oikawa-san isn’t here right now.” 

He seems surprised by that. “Oh. Oh, okay. Then I’ll- I guess I’ll give it to him another time. Thanks.” 

He starts to turn back to the car again. 

“What’s your name?” 

He stops moving. 

“Iwaizumi-san.” She says. “You’re Iwaizumi-san, aren’t you?” 

Harumi has a feeling she’s right, watching the color drain from his cheeks. 

“I thought so.” Harumi nods to herself. “Well, I’m sure you already know about the banquet, then. But the party is actually at the- it’s at a different location.” 

If Oikawa had told Iwaizumi that he’s engaged, Harumi would’ve heard about it by now. Evidently, he’s still in the dark. 

“Oh.” Iwaizumi stutters out. “How did you know-”

Harumi waves her hand. “Oikawa can’t hide anything from me. But don’t worry, I’m the only one who knows about you, Iwaizumi-san.”

His shoulders relax a little at that. 

“Now, did Oikawa invite you to the banquet?” 

Iwaizumi shakes his head. “No. He didn’t. I really, probably shouldn’t be here to begin with. But I didn’t- he didn’t tell me it was his birthday last month. So, I guess I just figured…” He switches the gift bag into his other hand. “Damn, this is stupid. I shouldn’t be here. I’m sorry to bother you.” 

Harumi looks intently at Iwaizumi’s face. 

He’s genuine. And he certainly is good-looking, she’ll give Oikawa that. As far as first impressions go, he isn’t awful. 

This is an opportunity. 

Oikawa might hate her forever, but he needs this. He always runs from his problems, and Harumi always catches him. That’s her job, to love him. 

She takes a quick breath.

“I think Oikawa would want you to be there, Iwaizumi-san.” She says. “He hates his birthday, you know.”

A white lie.

“He does?”

“Very much. I assume that’s why he didn’t tell you about it.”

“Oh. That seems unlike him.”

“I know, I know. He’s an attention-seeker, that’s for sure. But even though he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, he loves it when others do.”

Iwaizumi thinks this over for a moment, and then he nods. “That makes sense.”

“This party may be a belated celebration, but it’s still for his birthday, after all. Even if it’s just to leave the gift, or just to leave a note, I think you’ll be making a very happy omega.” Harumi smiles at him. “Now, I know this is sudden, but I can give you the address. You’ll be there in no time, I promise.”

“I don’t know.” Iwaizumi shakes his head. “I really don’t think I should. I mean, I wasn’t invited, and his family doesn’t know about me. This was a bad-”

“He was in such a bad mood this morning, too.” Harumi sighs loudly. 

Iwaizumi closes his mouth.“He was?”

“I assumed it was because of his birthday.” Just one more push. “But between you and me, he was just disappointed about not seeing you today. That’s what I think. He misses you.”

A flicker behind Iwaizumi’s eyes. A flash of red on his nose. That worked nicely. 

“He does?”

Harumi nods. 

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to drop his gift off.” 

That excited look Iwaizumi’s trying his best to tone down threatens her with guilt. But her priority is Oikawa. This is for Oikawa. 

If everything goes well, this is for Iwaizumi, too. 

Harumi quickly rounds the other side of the taxi, telling the driver Ushijima’s address, and that Iwaizumi is in somewhat of a hurry. 

“I’m sorry, I never got your name.” Iwaizumi says. 

“You can just call me Harumi.”

Iwaizumi smiles. It’s easy to see how Oikawa fell in love with that smile.

“Thank you, Harumi-san.” 

“No, no, I should be thanking you.”

Iwaizumi gives a bow of his head before slipping into the backseat. He stops, though, facing Harumi again.

“Sorry, but are you Oikawa’s mother?” He asks. 

No one has asked that before. She doesn’t look anything like Oikawa. 

Harumi stands up straighter.

She nods. 

“Something like that.” 

Iwaizumi waves at her through the window as the taxi pulls back onto the street. She waves back, and then he’s gone. 

_Don’t give up on him._

* * *

It’s been twenty minutes since he left Oikawa’s house, and Iwaizumi’s starting to get restless. 

He peers inside the gift bag for the hundredth time, just for something to do more than anything. His wrapping job is subpar. There are only two grey sheets of tissue paper concealing the present, since he had to make do with stuff he found around their apartment. Sakusa isn’t big on gift-giving. No surprise there.

Iwaizumi doesn’t recognize the road they’re on. This place isn’t as close as that woman made it seem, and he hopes it’s not much farther for the sake of his wallet. They’ve been driving away from the city, past houses and shops and street signs the alpha doesn’t recognize, and it occurs to him he doesn’t even know if he’s going to some kind of venue or a house. 

This is stupid. Even if it’ll make Oikawa happy, this is stupid. His father could see Iwaizumi and start asking questions, or anyone else in his family. Who’s the alpha who just dropped off a birthday gift for you, Oikawa? They’ll definitely ask questions. 

It’s not a huge deal, though, right? They’ve been dating for more than a month, and Iwaizumi doesn’t plan on letting Oikawa go that easily. Might as well rip the bandaid off, so to speak. 

But he remembers the way Oikawa looked, talking about his father, how he kept his eyes down and his pheromones hinted at anxiety. Oikawa meant it about not wanting to tell his father yet. Iwaizumi won’t violate his trust like that.

It’s too late now, though. He’ll just drop off the gift and get the hell out of there, pray no one sees him. 

He can’t really blame himself more than biology, because Oikawa might miss him, but the alpha misses him more. Their first morning without coffee was almost painful. He’s been surrounded by Oikawa’s scent so thoroughly, his body is growing attached to the omega. Growing more protective of him. 

Like they’re bonding without the bite. 

It was stupid of Iwaizumi to show up at Oikawa’s house, anyway, but he was getting anxious in his bedroom, craving him, ignoring the work that’s been piling up over the last month. So he got a stupid little present and called a taxi, not really thinking about it past that. 

If it was up to the alpha in him, he wouldn’t let Oikawa leave his sight. But he would also have mounted him and marked him and bred him by now, too. 

_Have some self control._

The driver turns onto a side road. There are nothing but trees for a few moments, until the taxi pulls into a cobblestone driveway. Iwaizumi curses under his breath.

The house is massive. From what he’s seen of the outside of Oikawa’s house, this is ten times that in terms of size, and in terms of how much it probably cost. A stone sculpture adorns a fountain at the end of the driveway, in the grassy circle where it loops, leads back to the road. How many solar panels are on the roof? 

Just looking at the house makes his jeans and simple shirt feel inadequate. 

Iwaizumi knows Oikawa is wealthy, but shit. It’s crazy that anyone actually lives like this. 

“If you could just wait here please.” He tells the driver, stepping out in front of what appears to be the front door. “Sorry, I’ll only be a minute.”

He clutches the gift bag. 

Now what? 

This was a terrible idea.

“Excuse me, sir. Please come this way.” A voice stops him from getting back in the taxi. Someone dressed in black, presumably an employee. 

Before he really knows how to react, he’s being led away from the door by two people now, not just one, around the house to a gate near the back. He can hear chatter and the clinking of glass. The rush of another fountain. 

“Whose family are you a guest of?” One of the servants asks. 

“What? Oh, uh, Oikawa? Oikawa Tooru.”

What the hell that question is supposed to mean is the last of his priorities, his unease spiking as they walk onto a lawn bigger than a soccer field. Tables are set up all around it, along with balloons and ice sculptures and more food than Iwaizumi’s ever seen. This has to be an excessive amount of chocolate.

How can Oikawa hate his birthday if this is how his family celebrates?

“You’re just in time.” One of the employees smiles. 

“Just in time for what?”

They don’t answer, maybe because they didn’t hear him or just because they’re too busy, both of them joining other people dressed in black milling about with drinks and appetizers. Iwaizumi has a really bad feeling about all of this.

He looks around for a place to leave his gift, like a table or something. He doesn’t see one. Instead, he finds himself scanning the crowd for familiar faces, spotting Oikawa’s best friend and his fiancé, that alpha who Oikawa called boring. Iwaizumi smiles. It’s hard not to smile, thinking about Oikawa and that sad excuse of a coffee he always orders.

Oikawa… Where’s Oikawa? 

“Excuse me, everyone!” 

Someone’s tapping a knife against a glass in front of the group. The voice of a man, an older man, most definitely an alpha. He’s tall, and good-looking for his age. His hair is greying, but patches of his natural color jump out under the afternoon sunlight. A rich brown. It reminds Iwaizumi of Oikawa’s hair color. It's the same shade. Exactly the same shade. 

That’s when he sees him. Standing just behind the man, just to the left of him. Iwaizumi feels all sorts of things at the sight of his boyfriend, a flurry of emotions in his chest, the buzz of familiarity in his pulse, like this was worth it after all. He takes an involuntary step forward but reminds himself he can’t just go hug Oikawa in front of all these people, no matter how tempting it is. 

Oikawa, dressed in a turtleneck that looks stifling in this heat, cheeks flushed red and eyes drawn to the grass. He looks cute in a dorky way. But he’s anxious. Iwaizumi’s never seen him look this anxious. 

Something’s different.

Iwaizumi’s eyes wander a bit more to the left. To a different man, a different alpha based on his build, taller and broader and dressed more appropriately than Iwaizumi, standing beside Oikawa. Staring at Oikawa. Smiling at Oikawa. 

He’s standing too close to him. He’s standing too close to Oikawa. 

And then the older man says, “Thank you all for coming out this afternoon. I couldn’t be prouder to officially announce the marriage between Ushijima Wakatoshi and my own son, Oikawa Tooru.” 

Those words don’t mean anything to Iwaizumi, because those words aren’t real to Iwaizumi. 

Around him, people start clapping. He wonders if he should clap, too. 

Because there’s no way. 

There’s no fucking way. 

A different Oikawa Tooru. 

A relative. A cousin, poor planning that resulted in a cousin with the same name, something like that. 

“I look forward to our families coming together. After careful planning, the wedding will be held on March 1st of this coming year. Of course, you are all invited. Please join me in congratulating these two.” 

Iwaizumi… Iwaizumi doesn’t think this is an emotion. There’s not a name for this feeling. This feeling, that of course there’s not another fucking Oikawa Tooru, that the one and only Oikawa Tooru is standing right there, the Oikawa Tooru who makes fun of Iwaizumi for liking stars and eats too much sugar and tastes like strawberries and looks so pretty that flowers must be jealous of him. 

“Ushijima-san?” The man says. 

“Thank you.” The alpha standing too close to Oikawa bows. “Thank you everyone. Now, I’d like to present Oikawa with a bonding ring.” 

Heat erupts behind Iwaizumi’s forehead. It surges into his chest, into his arms, every part of his body overcome with a fever. It’s bright outside, but he feels his pupils dilate, his jaw quivering. He doesn’t realize how tightly his fists are curled until he hears a rip, a hole opening in the gift bag. 

In a lot of ways, this is how he feels during his rut. 

But this is more dangerous than that. This is everything alpha at its core. His mind shuts down, falls numb except for one thought, one purpose. 

_Mine._

The alpha slides the ring onto Oikawa’s finger. Oikawa looks terrified, smaller than usual somehow. He’s tense, even Iwaizumi can tell just how tense the omega’s body is, like he might dart away at any moment. 

_Mine._

Oikawa turns his head. His eyes fall on Iwaizumi. 

_Take what’s mine._

And then the alpha standing too close to Oikawa moves in closer, and holds the omega in place as his nose nudges Oikawa’s scent glands. He scents him. 

Oikawa never let Iwaizumi scent him. He was worried the pheromones would be too strong to cover up, because his family might find out. Iwaizumi never questioned why he was so adamantly opposed to his family finding out. It all makes sense, now. 

Another alpha’s scent on the omega. Another alpha’s bonding ring. Who the fuck uses those anymore? 

Iwaizumi’s barely holding onto scraps of sanity as he shoves his way through the group, knocking over chairs and bumping into people by accident, but not entirely by accident, his eyes locked on Oikawa. His omega.

They may not be bonded, but Oikawa is Iwaizumi’s omega. 

Iwaizumi will fight tooth and nail for anyone who tries to take what’s his. 

“Get your hands off him.” Iwaizumi reaches the front, drops the gift on the ground and shoves the alpha off of Oikawa. 

There’s a collective gasp somewhere in Iwaizumi’s ears, followed by murmuring and movement. He couldn’t care less.

“Stop it, Iwa!” 

Ushijima whatever the fuck stumbles back a few steps. He’s bigger than Iwaizumi realized, but that only makes Iwaizumi more aggravated, more heat flowing into his muscles. A snarl probes the back of his throat. 

Iwaizumi steps in front of Oikawa, in between him and the other alpha. 

“Stay away from Oikawa.” He makes his words pronounced enough that his fangs flash behind his lips. Elongated, the way they get during his rut. Or when he’s angry enough. “Who the fuck are you?” 

“What in the world is going on here?” The older man snaps. Based on his scent, he must be Oikawa’s father. Iwaizumi doesn’t care about that right now. 

“Why don’t you tell me?” 

“I’m Ushijima Wakatoshi.” The other alpha adjusts his suit jacket. “You’re standing in front of my fiancé. Please leave the premises before I have to call the police.” 

Iwaizumi lets out a warning growl. “He’s not your fiancé. He’s my boyfriend. Get the fuck away from my boyfriend.” 

“You need to leave, now.” Oikawa’s father drops his voice into a register that makes Iwaizumi recoil, the kind of alpha command that strengthens with seniority. 

Behind Iwaizumi, Oikawa whines, grabs at the back of the alpha’s shirt, a high whine that forces his attention towards the omega. 

“Iwa, this isn’t- I promise I’ll explain. I swear to god, it’s not my choice, you just- you don’t understand.” Oikawa pleads with him, struggling to talk through the whines pouring out of his throat. “Iwa, please.” His eyebrows slanted, eyes struck with panic, Iwaizumi might listen to him if he wasn’t distracted by the goddamn stench. 

That other alpha’s pheromones wafting off of Oikawa’s neck. 

“Wait.” Iwaizumi pries the omega’s hands off his shirt. “You mean he’s serious?”

Oikawa starts to say something, but his voice breaks. He brings the back of his hand up to his mouth, tears streaking down his cheeks, rolling onto his fingers. His eyes look like glass. 

Oikawa is engaged. 

This is an engagement party. 

And engagements don’t happen overnight. They happen over months, years. They happen before the first time Oikawa came to the carwash and smiled at Iwaizumi. Long before planetarium visits and first kisses under city trees. Before coffee that made Iwaizumi excited. 

“Iwa.” 

“Goddammit, Oikawa.” 

“Iwa, don’t leave.”

“The whole time? The whole fucking time?”

“Iwa, please don’t leave.” 

“I should’ve known.”

Oikawa can’t stop crying.

“Don’t try to fucking call me. Don’t fucking talk to me. Don’t try to see me.”

“Stop it.” 

“I can’t believe you.” 

“Iwa.” 

“Fuck you.”

“Iwaizumi.” 

There’s a hand on his shoulder. Ushijima’s hand. Iwaizumi pulls out of his grip. 

“Wait!”

Iwaizumi doesn’t look back at either of them, at anyone as he walks back across the lawn. 

“Let go of me!”

Through the gate. 

“Iwa, please!” 

Around to the front of the house. 

“Iwa!”

He gets back in the taxi, and gives the driver his address. 

They pull out of the driveway.

Iwaizumi thinks he can hear Oikawa’s voice, distant, but it could be anything. 

In the backseat, he leans his forehead against the headrest in front of him. 

His tears land on his knees, the floor quietly. His neck feels like it could split open, this pressure, the way his tears burn his skin. He digs his palms into his eyes. He cries.

He cries Oikawa. 

The driver turns on the radio, and Iwaizumi can’t hear his heart anymore. 

* * *

“Iwa!” Oikawa shrieks, blind, kicking and struggling against arms holding him back. 

He chokes on his own tears. He coughs, and his bangs fall in his eyes, and suddenly he’s being yanked backwards, further from Iwaizumi, somewhere dark where a door slams and artificial light turns on. 

“Iwa!” 

“That’s enough, Tooru.” His father’s alpha voice cuts through his sobs. 

Oikawa falls silent immediately. His body stiffens, and the last of his tears splatter onto his shirt. He whines as his head bows forward, his neck rolls to the side, the way his body always reacts when an alpha uses that fucking voice. 

His vocal cords are sore from whining. 

“Ushijima-san, you can let him go now.” 

A moment passes, and then Oikawa feels his feet pressing against a hard floor, blood rushing back into his arms where he was being held. He stumbles, lands on his knees. 

The two of them whisper somewhere above Oikawa, but he can’t hear anything other than his heartbeat. His heartbeat. He wishes it would stop beating. It’s too loud. 

Where’s Iwaizumi?

The sound of a door shutting again. 

Footsteps, and then more arms heaving him up. 

“Come on, stand up straight.” 

His father squeezes him, hard, until Oikawa’s standing with his hands balled at his sides, Iwaizumi’s name on silent lips. He still can’t cry. 

Oikawa stares at the wall behind his father. 

They’re inside Ushijima’s house. A room with a couch and a few million dollar paintings on white walls. The omega struggles to keep himself from gagging on Ushijima’s scent. It’s worse with these pheromones assaulting his own neck, now that he’s inside where fresh air can’t protect his nose from the reality of it. 

Ushijima scented him. 

Iwaizumi watched Ushijima scent him. 

“Tooru. Look at me.”

Oikawa doesn’t have the choice not to. 

“Do you have any idea how much _shit_ you’ve gotten our family into?” 

A sick feeling wrenches Oikawa’s stomach. His father glares at him. Those black eyes that the omega didn't inherit. One of his earlier memories, of his father’s eyes and loud noises. 

He doesn’t have time for this. Iwaizumi… He needs to see Iwaizumi. 

“This is humiliating.” His father raises his hands, and Oikawa flinches. “Not only are you cheating on Ushijima-san, but your boyfriend crashed your engagement party. In front of everyone. Now everyone knows the whore of a son I raised. Worse than humiliating. What the hell am I supposed to tell people? What do I tell Ushijima-san’s parents? God, tell me, Tooru. Tell me how to explain this.” 

“If you hadn’t forced me into an engagement with an alpha I hate, then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.” Oikawa snaps. 

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me.” 

Oikawa’s shoulders hunch over, his neck forced into a deeper bow, another whine clawing its way out of his mouth. 

“Business associates, Tooru. Family members. Friends. Those are the people outside right now. Good people.” His father paces across the room. “What do I say? I’m sorry my omega son can’t control himself?” He slams his hand against one of the couch cushions. “It’s because you’re an omega. I always knew you would do something like this. Omegas.” He says the word like it’s a swear. Like it’s something terrible. Maybe it is. “Who the hell is that guy, anyway? Know what, don’t answer that. I don’t give a shit. He doesn’t exist to you anymore.” 

Oikawa whips his head up. “What? No. No, daddy, don’t say that. Please don’t say that.” His voice sounds foreign even to him, a pitiful sound dripping desperation that the omega has never felt before. More than pleading, more than begging. 

“You don’t really think I would let you see that alpha again, did you? Don’t play stupid, Tooru. I want you to forget his name.”

“No.” Oikawa shakes his head. “No, no. I love him. I love him. I love Iwaizumi. I love Iwaizumi Hajime. I love-”

Oikawa doesn’t see his father’s palm until it’s inches from his face. 

The sound reverberates in the small room, of rough skin striking Oikawa’s cheek. Oikawa yelps, tears jumping to his waterline. He stumbles back but trips on his own feet, grabs the doorframe, barely catching himself. 

“You’re marrying Ushijima-san. You’re going to have his bite on your neck. You’re going to give me grandchildren with him. Do you understand me?”

Oikawa clutches the side of his face. 

“I asked if you understand me, Tooru.” 

“Yes.” Oikawa blurts. 

“Good. Now, you’re going home.” 

The feeling of his father’s hand on his skin, dragging him through the house, out the front door because he doesn’t want anyone to see the omega, it makes Oikawa nauseous. His face stings. He’s only conscious enough to be aware of that. 

Hot leather, air freshener, tinted windows. His father pushes him into the backseat of one of their cars and slams the door behind him. 

Oikawa can’t think of a good reason to get out of the car. He leans his cheek against the glass, but it’s not cool enough to provide any relief. His tears are more soothing. 

If he tilts his head the right way, he can see a sliver of his reflection. 

That isn’t Oikawa Tooru. 

His cheek is red and swollen, watery mascara dripping from his eyelids to his chin, down his neck, a revolting color against melting blush. There’s blood on his bottom lip. From nervous biting or from his father, he doesn’t know. 

He doesn’t look pretty. 

Oikawa Tooru always looks pretty.

Oikawa Tooru doesn’t cry over alphas.

Oikawa Tooru laughs when his father is mad. 

Oikawa Tooru doesn’t fall in love. 

This can’t be Oikawa Tooru. 

A knock on the window. 

He rolls it down enough to see it’s Ushijima, and then begins to roll it back. 

“Wait, wait, Oikawa.” The alpha shoves his hand above the glass. 

It’s tempting to let the window keep rolling. 

“I know you don’t want to see me right now.”

Oikawa stares at the ceiling. “Then leave.”

“I will.” He pauses. “I wanted to tell you that I’m not mad.”

“I don’t care if you are.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

“I think I knew.”

Oikawa counts how long he can hold his breath.

“Or I think I assumed it would happen at some point. But I’m not upset with you.”

Only nine seconds apparently. 

“Here.”

Ushijima slides something through the opening in the window.

A gift bag.

“Someone said he was holding this.”

Oikawa stares at it. 

“What’s he like?” 

It’s blue.

“That alpha.”

He doesn’t want to open it, but his fingers are tugging at the ribbon, sliding over tissue paper. Only two sheets. That should make him smile. Oikawa doesn’t know if he’ll ever feel like smiling again. 

“I love him.” Oikawa says. “That’s what he’s like.” 

His hands touch something soft. Pulling the fabric into his lap, he realizes that this shirt is familiar. Teal. 

It’s the teal one he tried on with Iwaizumi, weeks ago when they went shopping. 

What did Iwaizumi say? 

I like you in that color. 

Oikawa buries his face into the shirt. 

The cruelest hint of Iwaizumi in its smell. 

He’s still clutching it against his nose sometime later, when he hears his father’s voice echo as he says, “The new date for the wedding is October 1st.” 

Harumi is waiting in the driveway when Oikawa pulls in. It’s just him and a driver, since his parents stayed behind to come up with bullshit excuses, probably. That should make him smile, too. 

It doesn’t. 

“Tooru? What happened to your face?” Harumi opens the car door for him. 

He collapses onto her by accident, but then he’s crying again, too much to say anything coherent, or make his legs work right. 

Harumi shushes him gently. “It’s alright now. I’ve got you.” 

Oikawa will never understand how she can get him out of his shoes, out of his clothes and makeup, into his bed without him realizing it’s happening. It must be experience from him coming home drunk. And soon enough, he’s wrapped in clean sheets, candles lit by his bedside and a glass of lemon water on his table. 

He holds the shirt Iwaizumi gave him close to his chest. 

Harumi sits on the edge of his bed. She holds an ice pack to his cheek. With her other hand, she strokes his hair back. 

She’s nosy most of the time, and she annoys him because she’s usually right about everything, but Harumi doesn’t ask about his cheek again, or why he was crying, why he came home early. Where the shirt came from. 

She just strokes his hair. 

As Oikawa starts to cry again, it’s not loud. It doesn’t shake his chest like it did earlier. 

“Harumi.”

“Hm?" 

“I love him.” 

“I know you do.”

Harumi slips under the sheets beside him. 

She holds him, as he cries Iwaizumi into her arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pain
> 
> ((for those of you who have mommy issues, i’m sorry...harumi supremacy i’ll say it))  
> thank you for being so patient with me as always !! 🥺❤️ idk when there will be sakuatsu & ushiten next, but soon, i promise ~ in the meantime, iwaoi angst for your health.
> 
> happy november! i know i usually say this, but this is your reminder to drink a glass of lemon water, eat your favorite snack, and don’t feel bad about taking a nap if you’re tired. i’m sending you love, okay? *hugs*


	12. Chapter 12

The wedding is in thirty-eight days.

Oikawa drags his fingertips down his cheeks. His eyelids are red. The only color in his skin surfaces where his fingers press against, blotchy stains that take too long to fade after his hands drop onto the counter. He looks like shit, not surprisingly. 

What is surprising is Harumi hasn’t come to drag him out of bed. Oikawa isn’t allowed to leave his bedroom for the foreseeable future, but this isn’t the first time he’s been grounded. Harumi usually wouldn’t let him go four days without a bath. 

Four days. It’s only been four days. 

The wedding is in thirty-eight days. 

He splashes cold water onto his face. It stings against dried tears and chapped lips. 

The last time he ended up like this was because of Iwaizumi, too. But that’s not true. This time, it’s because of himself. 

Oikawa did this. 

Oikawa deserves dried tears and chapped lips. 

Oikawa deserves to be locked in his bedroom for the next thirty-eight days without his cellphone, his only visitors being Harumi with food he won’t eat and Ushijima with nothing to say. Oikawa’s wedding dress hangs in his closet like a fire he can’t put out. In thirty-eight days, he moves into the Ushijima estate with his only purpose to clean, cook, and get pregnant. 

As far as his father’s concerned, Oikawa will never see Iwaizumi again. 

Four days ago, Oikawa felt the same way. 

It took him long enough to pull himself into the bathroom after sleepless hours spent holding that teal shirt, but he feels different this morning. Aside from the fact that this is the first time he’s brushed his teeth, washed his face and nibbled at the rice Harumi left on his desk sometime while he was asleep, he feels different. 

Whatever the feeling is that comes after the hundredth stage of grief. 

He sniffles as he pulls the shirt over his pale torso. The teal shirt, which desperately needs to be washed and ironed but he refuses to part with. Even still, he looks good in it. Iwaizumi said he looks good in it, so he does. 

What’s been going through Iwaizumi’s head over the last four days, Oikawa doesn’t want to think about. It hurts to think about. But everything hurts right now, and he woke up this morning after another blurry nightmare without any tears left behind his eyelids, only something like resolve in the way he let himself inhale, scrunch his fists into his sheets and scratch a red mark on his mental calendar bringing him a day closer to the wedding. 

So what if Iwaizumi told Oikawa not to call him or see him. So what if he already kicked the omega out of his life. Oikawa Tooru has never been one to listen to alphas. He’s going to find him whether Iwaizumi wants him to or not. 

Or whether Oikawa knows how to escape his bedroom, or steal one of their cars, or make it to Iwaizumi’s apartment without his father tracking him down. His cellphone has probably been flushed down the toilet by this point. 

God, he feels like a princess. What twenty-four-year-old has to come up with a plan to leave their own house? A hundred years ago maybe, when omegas weren’t treated like people. Not that Oikawa’s father has ever treated him like a person. 

Even if Iwaizumi refuses to see him again, Oikawa needs to get out of this fucking house. He doesn’t have any money of his own, but anything is better than this. Suga might let him crash for a while, at least until his father sends a legion of well-paid alphas to drag him back home. His only hope is to piss his father off enough to the point that he forgets he has a son. It has to happen eventually. Doesn’t it?

Oikawa leans his forehead against the bathroom mirror. 

His exhale leaves a cloud on the glass. 

This has to be the worst emotion. Whatever this is. 

He hasn’t even been able to see Suga since the banquet. For all he knows, Oikawa is bonded to Ushijima already. He can only hope Harumi has sent along a message of some kind. 

Where is Harumi? 

The condensation of Oikawa’s breath on the mirror starts to shake. He didn’t notice his body begin to cry even without tears. His chest heaves. Despite how numb he is, he feels a pinch where his nails dig against the shirt fabric. 

There’s a strange sensation in his scent glands, a tingle as they swell in a way they haven’t before. An aching at the base of his neck. A searching for an alpha. For Iwaizumi, and only Iwaizumi. Something instinctual tells him this is similar to how it feels to be separated from a mate. But they aren’t mates. They aren’t bonded, even if it feels like it. 

He wishes they were. 

Oikawa’s heart stumbles for a moment. 

Admitting he’s in love is one thing, but wanting to be bonded is entirely another. 

Bonding is permanent. Love isn’t. 

But as unbelievable as it seems, every cell in his body wants it. All of him craves Iwaizumi’s bond mark on his neck. The feeling of Iwaizumi’s pheromones suffocating him, claiming him, reincarnating his body from an omega to Iwaizumi’s omega, that feeling as necessary as the blood in his veins. 

How long has he known Iwaizumi?

Barely three months?

Oikawa’s hand flies to his mouth, reacting to more silent sobs. 

It’s the last thing he wants to admit. What Suga always says, that infuriating, stupid, ridiculous phrase. Something children read in storybooks about true love and bullshit. 

“ _ He could be your true mate.” _

Oikawa Tooru doesn’t fall in love. Oikawa Tooru doesn’t wish for a bond mark. Oikawa Tooru doesn’t stay up smiling about an alpha he met three months ago who likes stars and chocolate ice cream and works at a carwash and takes his shirt off when it’s hot outside sometimes. Oikawa Tooru doesn’t have a true mate. Oikawa Tooru doesn’t  _ get _ to have a true mate. Oikawa Tooru… 

At some point, his knees buckle and he’s on the floor. Cold bathroom tiles make him shiver. 

Because even if Oikawa Tooru did get to have a true mate, he fucked it up. 

“Tooru?” Harumi gently knocks on the door. “I’m leaving a warm bathrobe on your bed.” 

A pause, and then the sound of receding footsteps. 

“Harumi, wait.” Oikawa chokes, manages to lunge back and open the bathroom door. 

“What- Oh, goodness, Tooru, what are you doing on the floor?” She hurries to pull him up by his underarms, clearly unphased by his state. “Come on, that’s it.” But as she tries to guide him to his bed, Oikawa shakes his head, pulls out of her grip, stumbles towards his vanity. 

“I need your help.” He opens the drawer. 

“With what?”

“Breaking out.”

He digs around the assortment of shit he never uses, not exactly sure what he’s looking for but grabs a few lip balms. Oh, and his jewelry box, his jewelry should get him enough money to live off for a little while at least. The overnight bag he uses when he sleeps over at Suga’s house, he sees it poking out of his closet from the corner of his eye. Now if only he had a cellphone… 

“You know I can’t do that.” Harumi says. 

“My father told you I’m not allowed to have visitors other than Ushijima, and under no circumstance am I allowed to use a phone. He didn't explicitly say you couldn’t  _ forget _ to unlock my bedroom door, or  _ accidentally _ call me an Uber, did he?” 

“Tooru.”

“I’m done, Harumi.” Oikawa shoves random clothes off hangers into his bag. “I’m sick of sitting in bed feeling helpless. I’ve been in my room for four fucking days. I’m not marrying Ushijima. I’m not letting his teeth anywhere near my scent glands. I’m getting out of this house.” 

Harumi usually pinches him, or uses that tone of voice that makes him shiver whenever Oikawa swears around her. She doesn’t. 

“Tooru.”

“This is the last time I’ll ever ask for anything.” He wipes his nose with the back of his hand. 

“Don’t talk like that, Tooru.”

He crosses the room to his bedside table. “I’m going to Iwa and-”

“Tooru.” 

Harumi grabs his arm. Her fingers, warm, cup his cheek and catch the tears that try to fall off. He thought he didn’t have any left. He didn’t know he was crying. 

“The wedding isn’t for more than a month. We have time.” She runs her other hand through his hair. “We’ll figure something out.” 

As badly as he wants to fall into her touch, Oikawa forces himself to step back. 

His hand mindlessly runs over his shirt, the teal shirt, quivering. He clutches his bag to his chest.

“What will we figure out? Harumi, there isn’t anything to figure out.”

“You need to be patient.”

“I can’t be patient when the wedding is in thirty-eight days. What am I supposed to wait for? Don’t tell me you believe in miracles all of a sudden.”

“I’m telling you to give Iwaizumi-san more time.” 

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means it’s only been four days since he found out you’re engaged to a different alpha. You have to trust he’ll come around on his own.”

“I’m guessing my father told you all about Iwa.” 

“You know everyone’s been talking about it.” 

“No, Harumi, I don’t know that, because I’m not allowed to leave my own bedroom. I don’t know anything, I don’t know if Koushi knows what’s going on, I don’t know what Iwa-” His voice cracks, tears dripping down his lips. Harumi tries to wipe them, but he steps back again. “I don’t even know how Iwa got there.”

And he really doesn’t. He had spiraled, laying in bed the first day, making up a million possible ways Iwaizumi might have ended up at the Ushijima estate on that day, at that time. But there were so many possibilities in his head that there were none at all. 

One of the gods must have brought Iwaizumi to the banquet. Maybe too much sex really does create bad karma. 

Harumi huffs a long breath. “That doesn’t matter. It was a good thing, if you ask me.” 

“In what universe was that a good thing?” 

“When were you planning on telling him Tooru? Hm?” 

“I was going to!”

“When?”

“Eventually.”

“And what would you have said?” She crosses her arms, gives him a look that burns the tears off his cheeks. 

Oikawa crosses his arms, too. “I was figuring it out. I would have figured it out. And we could have talked about it, Iwa and I would have talked about it and figured something out together.” 

“How do you know he would have listened to you?” 

“Because Iwa listens!” Oikawa shouldn’t have raised his voice because he almost starts sobbing again. He begins to bring his hand to his mouth but doesn’t, starts to turn like he’s going to walk away but doesn’t, starts to swallow but can’t. His shoulders shake. “Iwa listens.” 

Harumi watches him. 

“I’m sorry, Tooru.” 

Oikawa just sniffs, rolls his eyes. 

“I thought it was the best way to get you to face the situation. But I don’t know him like you do.” 

Oikawa probably wouldn’t have paid her any attention if she didn’t lower her eyes at that. Harumi scolds him for breaking eye contact. Yet now, she’s staring at the floor, at dark wood that hasn’t been swept in four days, avoiding his eyes. It makes his blood cold. 

“Harumi.” He doesn’t understand why she’s avoiding his eyes. “What are you saying? What are you talking about?” 

“Iwaizumi-san came to the house on Sunday. After you left, he came here in a taxi. He had a present for you.” 

“Harumi.” 

“You always run from everything, Tooru, it seemed like an opportunity. You needed a push.”

“Harumi, please tell me you’re not being serious.” 

She looks up at him, finally. But it’s worse, because she’s looking at him with sympathy now, which only makes his shoulders shake more, makes his breath turn into glue in his throat.

“It was only a matter of time before your father found out, regardless of how you told Iwaizumi-san.”

“You told Iwa I was at the Ushijima’s?”

She’s silent.

“You thought sending Iwa to a public banquet with all of my family and all of Ushijima’s family there was an opportunity? In front of everyone? That was better than a private conversation? Harumi, you- please, god, don’t tell me you actually did that.” 

“A private conversation wouldn’t have solved anything, Tooru. And you don’t know if Iwaizumi-san would have reacted the same way.”

“No,  _ you _ don’t know that!  _ You _ are the one who doesn’t know him!” Oikawa’s screaming now. There’s snot running down his face, and he’s screaming at Harumi with his fingers clutching the teal fabric over his heart. 

He’s both grateful and angry when she doesn’t say anything. Grateful because there’s nothing she can say that will fix any of this. Angry because she isn’t fixing any of this. Angry because somewhere behind his eyelids, he doesn’t know if he would’ve ever told Iwaizumi, either. 

Harumi takes his overnight bag out of his weak grip. Instead of fighting it, he just turns his back, walks to the opposite side of the room, sinks into the corner chair beside the window. If he’s not crying, he’s petty, and right now he doesn’t feel like crying anymore. 

Oikawa would consider this betrayal if Harumi didn’t love him so much. He may consider it betrayal in thirty-eight days. 

He can blame Harumi for this, for no cell phone and locked doors, but he can’t blame her for Iwaizumi. If he really wants to blame someone else, the best person would be his father, or the god that decided to make his father, or the god that allowed his mother to get pregnant. But that’s easy, and irrelevant, since it’s his fault, really. Again. 

“I’m sorry, Tooru.” Harumi says behind him. 

When he’s petty, he’s silent. 

“You know I wouldn’t do something if I didn’t think it was good for you. I’m sorry a decision I made turned out like this. I love you.”

When he’s petty, he doesn’t like to move, either, but he rolls his neck just slightly, his own  _ I love you, too.  _

Something hits the ground beside his chair. 

His overnight bag. He blinks at it, and then pulls it into his lap, unzips the top to find folded clothes, his toiletries bag, a small blanket, and those polaroids he and Suga took at the mall last spring. 

“Don’t disappear on me.” Harumi murmurs. 

Oikawa, despite his pettiness, looks up at her with eyes shining. 

“I’ll get you some snacks once we’re downstairs. Your father isn’t home right now, and the rest of the staff are busy with brunch. I don’t know about a phone, but I can call a car for you. And Sugawara-san does know what happened, since you were wondering. I told him.” 

There’s nothing Oikawa can do except hug her. 

“It’s not like I’m leaving the country.” He squeezes her. “I’m just going to find Iwa.”

In his arms, Harumi nods. 

Oikawa releases her a moment later, not wanting this adrenaline high to end before he’s out of the house. Harumi tells him to stay put until she gets him a ride. He thinks he sees her start to cry as she leaves the room.

Now he really feels like a princess. It’s only a matter of time before his father figures out he left. Oikawa rubs his eye, could almost laugh to himself thinking about the anger seared onto his father’s face, the way he’ll squeeze his fists and curse omegas under his breath. 

It’s long overdue, now that Oikawa thinks about it. This is long overdue. 

Harumi taps on his door. 

“Come on, Tooru. The car’s here.”

“Really? Already?” He slings the overnight bag over his shoulder, hurrying into the hallway for the first time in four days. “Didn’t you just request an Uber?” 

She tugs him by the wrist down the stairs. “I did. They must’ve been nearby.” 

As he tugs his shoes on, Harumi slips a package into his bag, the crinkle of snacks as she zips it back up for him. It seems unnecessary, but that’s how she always is. 

“Okay.” Oikawa pulls her into another hug. “You’ll see me whenever the wedding is cancelled.” 

“I’ll do my best to prevent chaos from breaking out here.” 

“Love you, Harumi.” 

“You’re going to kill me one day, Tooru.” 

And then he’s rushing out the front door, down these stupid granite steps, taking a breath as he approaches a silver car with a concerning number of dents along the side of it. He reminds himself that this isn’t a time to be picky as he climbs into the backseat. 

“Hey there.” The driver turns in his seat to look at the omega, a wide grin taking up his entire face. “Your house is huge.” 

“Absolutely massive. I’m jealous, dude!” Another voice pipes up, and Oikawa realizes there’s another person in the passenger’s seat. 

“Oh, are you driving both of us?” Oikawa asks the driver.

The distinctly short driver, and Oikawa wonders how his feet can reach the gas. He’s an adult, clearly, but there’s something about him that reminds the omega of a child. Maybe it’s the patch of dyed blonde hair hanging over his forehead amidst a mass of spiky black. 

“Nah, he’s just my friend.” The driver sticks a thumb out in his friend’s direction. “This sort of thing can be dangerous for omegas to do alone, you know, driving strangers, so I like to bring Ryu along with me.”

“Hm. That makes sense.” Oikawa nods slowly. 

He takes a deep breath in through his nose, recognizing the familiar scent of omega wafting off the driver, and a stronger alpha scent he’s surprised he didn’t notice right away.

“Is that allowed?” OIkawa asks.

The driver shrugs. “I don’t know. But no one’s stopped us yet.” 

“Is there somewhere in particular you want to be dropped off?” His friend says, holding a

map up on his phone. “This just says downtown.”

“Oh, sorry. I can type it in.” Oikawa sticks his hand out. 

It nearly slips out of his hand as the driver steps on it, though, bringing them all to the mercy of their seatbelts as he careens out of the driveway. The brakes make a squeaking sound, and Oikawa suddenly wonders if this was a good idea. Is this what it’s like when he drives?

“Are you okay with music?” The driver says louder than he needs to.

“Um, sure.” 

“Hell yeah!” Ryu starts to fiddle with the radio. 

This song is definitely on one of Oikawa’s playlists, but it doesn’t feel the same when he’s gripping the door, two strangers screaming lyrics that he knows. 

He didn’t expect to find this soothing. 

There are a few scraps of trash, napkins and a straw wrapper on the floor, and what appears to be a soda stain on the seat beside him. Instead of the leather seats he’s used to, these seats are cloth. Gray cloth that feels soft on Oikawa’s fingertips. Air freshener shoved into a vent on the dashboard smells like lavender and rain. 

“Noya, Noya, stop sign!” Ryu shouts, and Oikawa braces to stop himself from flying into the seat in front of him. 

“Crap, sorry!” 

For some reason, that’s soothing, too. 

“So,” Noya looks up in the rearview mirror, borderline shouts over the music. “Where are you headed?” 

“Turn left.” Ryu says. 

“Here?”

“Yeah. Wait, no, up there.” 

Oikawa grips his bag close to him as the car jolts. 

“Downtown.” Oikawa says, but he did already put the address in the map. 

“Yeah! But what’s the occasion?” Noya laughs. 

That’s sort of a rude question, isn’t it? 

Oikawa sits up straighter. “I’m going to see someone.” 

“Nice.”

Ryu points at one of the buildings flying past in the window. “Hey, didn’t you and I go to that ramen place a few weeks ago?”

“Oh, yeah, we did.”

Oikawa gets a glimpse of the shop he’s talking about. It’s an underground place, nestled between other buildings, a decrepit sign hanging above cement stairs. A familiar sign. 

_ “Don’t eat so fast next time. You could choke.”  _

His eyes sting, but he doesn’t cry, and that’s worse somehow. 

_ “You promised you would tell me about stars. Remember?” _

They pass the park a moment later. Someone’s sitting on their bench, feeding birds. It’s hot and bright outside, too hot for the birds to be hungry, so there are only a couple there. Before Oikawa can count them, the car turns onto another street. 

“Can you turn up the music?” Oikawa says.

Ryu answers by smiling, turning the dial all the way to the right. Their seats vibrate beneath them. Oikawa feels cold blood dripping out of his ears. He shuts his eyes. Until he thinks his eyes might never open again with this music breaking him, he shuts them. 

Oikawa doesn’t know how much time passes before the car stops moving. 

“Alright, we’re here!” Noya says. 

“Need any help with that?” Ryu leans over his seat, nodding towards Oikawa’s bag. 

“No, I've got it.” Oikawa squeezes the hem of his shirt. He looks down, at teal. “Thank you.”

It’s supposed to be hot out, but as he steps onto the sidewalk, he can’t help but shiver. The car was warmer. 

Or maybe the air outside Iwaizumi’s apartment building is just colder. 

The last time Oikawa was here, he didn’t go inside. It occurs to him that he doesn’t know  _ how _ to get inside, not without a key. It’s tempting to run to the convenience store down the street like he did before, pray that Iwaizumi needs more toothpaste, but he grounds himself on the sidewalk until the thought goes away. 

He’s going to find Iwaizumi. He has to find Iwaizumi. 

The gods must be feeling sympathetic, because just as Oikawa approaches the front doors, someone leaving holds it open for him. 

It’s even colder inside. 

Oikawa unconsciously raises a hand to his scent glands. His scent is getting out of control with anxiety, especially with all of these strange pheromones mixing in his nose. It shouldn’t be surprising that he can only smell alpha with a hint of beta; they usually end up congregating, even in private living spaces like this. 

_ Apartment 402.  _

Oikawa presses the up arrow on the elevator. 

He plays with a curl behind his ear.

But the elevator is taking too long, so he pushes through the door leading to the stairs instead, heaving his bag over his shoulders and quivering with the strain of keeping his scent glands in check. 

On the second flight of stairs, his heart thumps at the scent of something familiar. 

He’s running before he realizes it. 

Someone shouts at him to be careful, but he just bounds up the stairs, forgetting about 402. His body knows where to go, following those pheromones. 

A keening whine escapes him as he throws himself through the fourth floor door, the scent growing stronger. If he wasn’t as desperate as he feels, he might be embarrassed about the noise, but he isn’t, and he almost doesn’t knock at the door where the scent makes his whole body tremble. 

Apartment 402.

Deep breath.

Another whine. 

He struggles to curl his fingers enough to knock. 

He waits.

The sound of a lock, and then a barely noticeable squeak as the door opens a crack.

“Can I help you?”

Oikawa doesn’t recognize this voice.

“Where’s Iwa?” He blurts. “I need to see Iwa. Iwaizumi Hajime. Where is he?” 

The other person is an alpha judging by the way his pheromones fight with Iwaizumi’s. He’s silent for a moment, staring at Oikawa through the crack with black eyes.

“He’s not here right now. Please leave.” 

The door shuts, and the sound of the lock sliding back into place is louder than the music. 

* * *

Another bird flutters down onto the grass. 

Ushijima pulls the last piece of bread out of the bag, crumpling it in his hand so the crumbs aren’t too big for their beaks. He scatters them on the ground. As the birds eat, he notices how their feathers are the same shade of brown as the crust. 

He hasn’t been to this park before. There always seems to be someone out feeding the birds when he passes by, though, so he came early, picked up a small loaf on his way. 

It’s unusually hot outside today, but there’s a tall tree shading this bench. He should come here more often. 

“Hey.”

Ushijima looks up from the birds. 

“Tendou-san.” 

The omega shifts his purse against his shoulder. His hair is down, loose strands falling over his forehead, thin-framed glasses resting on his nose. It’s different from what Ushijima’s used to. He pauses just to stare. 

“I still don’t feel like I should be here.” Tendou says. “But someone who asks four times has a good reason, doesn’t he?” 

Ushijima sits up.

“I’m really glad you came, honestly. I know it’s your one day off, so I’m sorry to cut into your free time.” He scoots over, giving Tendou room to sit down on the opposite end of the bench. “I just think I wanted... I think I really needed to see you.” 

“Mmm.” Tendou hums. He narrows his eyes a little, at nothing in particular. “You didn’t come to the store this week.”

“I was thinking.” Ushijima says. 

“About what?”

“My fiancé has a boyfriend.” 

Ushijima doesn’t understand why everyone falls silent when he says that.

“Ah.” Tendou looks at him with wide eyes. “That’s… Terrible. I’m sorry.” 

“Is it terrible?” Ushijima dumps the last of the crumbs onto the grass. 

“It’s supposed to be.”

“Oikawa never wanted to marry me.”

“Oh?”

“I think I knew he was seeing other people, too. But I never asked him. I think he would’ve lied, and I would’ve known.”

He can feel the omega watching him. It’s a weird sensation, on his cheek. 

“Does talking about this make you upset?” Tendou asks.

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It should.”

“So the wedding isn’t happening, then. Is this your way of telling me you want to cancel your order?” 

“No. The wedding is October 1st.” 

“I thought your fiancé cheated on you.”

“It’s about our families more than us.” 

“Arranged.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll cancel your order.”

Ushijima raises his head. He blinks. “But the wedding is still happening.”

“I won’t be making chocolate for two people who don’t love each other, Ushijima-san.” 

Tendou stands up, his back turned to the alpha. 

“Tendou-san, wait.” Ushijima stands up, too. “You don’t think the wedding should happen?” 

“Of course I don’t.” 

“Tendou-san.”

“Me, of all people. Of course I don’t.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think you want the wedding to happen, either. I probably don’t know you well enough to know that, but it’s what it seems like. I’m selfish, aren’t I.”

Ushijima shakes his head. “I don’t think you’re selfish. How would that make you selfish?”

The omega laughs to himself. 

“I really am selfish.” 

He turns back around. 

By the time Tendou’s lips are pressed firmly against Ushijima’s mouth, the alpha stumbles back, falls onto the bench. Tendou just follows him down. Long fingers clutch Ushijima’s face.

Vaguely, Ushijima has the sense that this is a bad idea. At a public park, the lips of an omega he doesn’t know well enough yet on his. 

But as Tendou begins to pull away, Ushijima holds him in place. 

_ Vanilla.  _ It must have blended into the sweet smells of chocolate and fruit at Tendou’s shop. Ushijima can’t miss it now, though. Pheromones as soft as vanilla. 

The kiss ends abruptly. Tendou, breathing heavily, and Ushijima, feeling like this is maybe what it should’ve been like all along. 

“Will you marry me?” 

Tendou squeezes Ushijima’s cheeks. 

“Not yet.” 

He’s smiling. 

* * *

“Hey, Makki and I are heading out now.” Matsukawa pokes his head through the door. “You sure you’ll be okay?” 

Iwaizumi sits up on the bed, clears his nose and rubs his knuckle. “Yeah, of course.” 

“We’ll be back in a few hours. Text or call if you need something. Love you.” 

“Alright, yeah, love you, too.” Iwaizumi nods. 

Matsukawa stands in the doorway for a minute longer, judging the state of the room if Iwaizumi had to guess. He taps his fingers on the wall as he leaves. 

A few moments later, Iwaizumi hears the sound of the apartment door echo shut. 

He groans, slumps back onto his pillow, squeezing his eyes in hopes that it’ll lessen his headache. Beside him, his phone is blaring some dumb YouTube video he doesn’t even know how he started watching. 

He squints at the top of the screen. 6:34 PM. 

_ Fuck, _ already? 

The last time he got out of bed was to go to the bathroom. That was almost five hours ago. 

He shuts his phone off, pulling himself up enough to grind his face into his palms. 

It can’t get any worse than this. 

But if it can, then Iwaizumi has it coming. 

Matsukawa was the one who offered to let Iwaizumi crash for a few days, just for a change of pace if anything, but Iwaizumi knows it’s not ideal. For any of them. He probably overstayed his welcome by now, too, after four days. 

Break-ups have never been this hard for him. It shouldn’t be this hard. He doesn’t want to think about why it’s this hard. 

He doesn’t want to think about much of anything. The work he’s been pushing off, the classes he missed, the shifts he ignored. Growing restless in the spare room in Matsukawa and Hanamaki’s apartment is the best he can manage. 

He just… He just needs time. And space. Time and space. That’s all. 

Because with all of this time to think, as much as it makes him want to dig his eyes out, he’s been thinking about Oikawa. Of course he’s thinking about Oikawa. 

Oikawa, who has been engaged to a different alpha for only god knows how long. 

Oikawa, who lied to Iwaizumi since the first day he pulled into the carwash.

But also, Oikawa, who’s father won’t let him buy his own clothes. 

Oikawa, standing beside that other alpha and his father, with dread in his eyes. Grief in his scent. 

Iwaizumi wishes it didn’t have to be this damn complicated. If Oikawa was just a normal goddamn omega with a normal goddamn life who cheated on Iwaizumi like normal goddamn people do. That would be easier. It would be easier because Iwaizumi could hate him and be done with this.

All of this thinking, and Iwaizumi sort of figured out he’s in love with Oikawa. 

Even if he wasn’t, he owes the omega a conversation at least. But it went straight to voicemail when Iwaizumi called yesterday. And this morning. 

So does that mean Oikawa actually wants to marry that guy? Who the fuck can’t make eye contact with the person they’re supposed to spend the rest of their life with? Too goddamn complicated. 

Iwaizumi heaves himself into the kitchen. He pours a glass of water, throwing back some ibuprofen for his headache. The clock above the stove says it’s 6:38 PM now. He really should try to get some work done. 

“Shit.” 

Back in the bedroom, he rifles through his backpack, but his laptop isn’t there. 

He writes out a small note in the highly unlikely event Matsukawa and Hanamaki get back from their date night before Iwaizumi returns with his laptop, leaving it on the counter before sliding some loafers on, sighing. His apartment building is only a fifteen minute walk, but still. It’s a pain in the ass. 

A bonded pair pass him on the street. They’re giggling, two girls who look a year or two younger than Iwaizumi, holding hands and giggling. 

Iwaizumi shoves his hands into his sweatpant pockets. 

He might have to move. That would also be a pain in the ass, but he just can’t see how he could stay in his city as he passes the ramen place he and Oikawa went to. The place he bought Oikawa’s gift from. Three different coffee shops they went to on mornings together. 

This city is starting to hurt. 

Iwaizumi fiddles with his keys as he waits for the elevator. He wonders if Sakusa is home, if the other alpha will tell him he looks as awful as he feels. 

As he steps off on the fourth floor, his senses perk up in a strange way. His scent glands swell a little, and the exhaustion that’s been weighing him down all week seems to evaporate, a tickle in his nose. 

His feet speed up on their own accord. 

And by the time he understands what this feeling is, it’s too late. 

Oikawa’s leaning against his apartment door. Asleep, without any makeup and shadows beneath his eyes. His chest rises under a teal shirt. The teal shirt that Iwaizumi remembers leaving on the ground. 

In his sleep, Oikawa lets out a soft whimper. 

His eyes open.

“Iwa.” He murmurs. 

And then he blinks rapidly, stumbles to his feet and runs panicked hands through his hair. “Iwa! Oh my god, Iwa.”

Oikawa rushes forward like he’s going to throw himself over Iwaizumi, but the alpha steps back. He shakes his head. All he can do is shake his head, his body beginning to tremble with the strain of containing this onslaught of impulses.

“Oikawa. What the hell are you doing at my apartment?”

His body screams at him to bring Oikawa into his arms. His head tells him to yell. A different part of his head tells him to leave. 

“I came to see you.”

Why is this the most he’s ever wanted to kiss Oikawa in his goddamn life? 

“What the hell. What the hell, Oikawa.”

The omega whines, loud enough that the whole floor might be able to hear him. “Iwa. Don’t look at me like this. Iwa, I just need you to listen to me.” 

“Why did- you can’t just show up at my apartment. Shit, Oikawa, how long have you been here?”

“A few hours. Your roommate told me to leave, so I spent a lot of time in the lobby downstairs, and walking on the street. But he left a little while ago, and I came back. I wasn’t going to leave until I found you.” 

“You talked to my roommate?” 

Oikawa nods.

“Fuck.” Iwaizumi presses his fingers into his forehead. 

Sakusa’s going to kill him. 

“Can you just…” The alpha walks around Oikawa, shoving his key into the lock. “Just leave, Oikawa.” 

“What?” Oikawa whimpers loudly. “No, Iwa, no, you have no fucking idea how long I’ve been waiting to see you. I’m not leaving. Listen to me, Iwa.” 

Iwaizumi starts to close the door behind him, but he makes the stupid decision to glance over his shoulder, at that pink, pleading look on Oikawa’s face. To make things worse, Oikawa whines again, the kind of whine only omegas can produce, that makes the alpha in him want to act up, and it’s hopeless after that. 

“Fine.” Iwaizumi holds the door for him.

Maybe if he begs for mercy, Sakusa won’t make his death too painful. 

As Iwaizumi turns some lights on in the dark apartment, Oikawa slips his shoes off. He keeps his head bowed slightly, setting a large bag Iwaizumi didn’t notice by the door. 

“Alright,” Iwaizumi turns to him with tired eyes. “Say what you want to say.” 

“You have a nice apartment.” Oikawa says.

“Thanks.”

“Iwa.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Damn it.” That’s the worst thing Oikawa could’ve started with. “Yeah.” Iwaizumi runs both of his hands over his head, rests them on the counter, clenches his fists in, and out. 

“What?”

“Nothing. Is that all you’re gonna say?” 

“No.” Oikawa takes a tentative step closer to him. “Well, that’s the main thing I wanted to say. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you. It’s complicated.” Another step. “Iwa, I missed you.” Closer. “I miss you.” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t want to say, “I missed you, too,” so he doesn’t say anything. 

“I swear to god I was going to tell you. I just didn’t know when, since it’s my father’s decision. All of this is my father. He arranged this marriage.”

“I don’t think there’s ever a right time to tell someone that.”

“I know. I know, Iwa, I didn’t… I think, maybe, I did the wrong thing.”

“I think you did, too.” 

“But I hate him, Iwa. I fucking hate Ushijima, I promise. You can ask Ushijima yourself, he knows how I feel about him.”

“He knows you hate him?”

Oikawa nods, looking grateful that Iwaizumi’s at least hearing him out. 

“Then why the hell does he want to marry you?”

“Well is it that hard to understand?” 

Iwaizumi raises his eyebrows.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know, honestly. But my father has been trying to marry me off since I was in high school. I saw other people the whole time, though, other alphas who my father didn’t know about.”

“You saw other people since we’ve been dating?”

“No!” Oikawa’s eyes get wide, his hands flying up. “No, no, Iwa, that’s not what I meant, never.” 

He looks too damn adorable for Iwaizumi not to believe him. It doesn’t make up for the fact that he lied and might have some dubious morals seeing as he met other alphas while being engaged, but Iwaizumi heaves a sigh. 

“Iwa. I’m sorry.” 

Closer.

“I’m sorry. I missed you so much, Iwa. I’m sorry.” 

Slowly, Oikawa reaches his hand out. Iwaizumi tells himself to move, but he can’t. Oikawa’s fingers brush over his shirt, the black fabric over his chest. He works up the confidence to press his hand against Iwaizumi. 

And then Oikawa isn’t slow anymore as he crashes into a kiss. 

In the heat of sudden pheromones, Iwaizumi doesn’t stop him. 

His hands immediately grip onto Oikawa’s hips, yanking him closer and digging in to leave bruises, marks, red things that say Iwaizumi. 

The alpha kisses him back, or devours him is the better word. He bites down on Oikawa’s bottom lip until he pulls a whimper out his throat, forces his tongue deep enough into the back of Oikawa’s mouth that the omega almost buckles. Iwaizumi lets out a growl, a sharp noise that really makes Oikawa fall limp, the way Iwaizumi’s instincts want him. 

They’ve spent plenty of time kissing, under stars and car roofs, but not like this. 

Iwaizumi moves one hand up Oikawa’s back, the other just above his ass as he begins to kiss down the omega’s neck. He nips at the soft places where his neck and his jaw connect, bites down hard on his throat to get the omega to mewl and dig his fingernails into Iwaizumi’s shoulders. 

If Oikawa’s breathy whines were loud, they were white noise compared to the way the omega fucking  _ breaks _ as Iwaizumi finds his scent glands. 

_ “Iwa.”  _

The scent pouring out of him tastes as good as it smells, like warmth and  _ alpha, alpha, alpha. _ He knew Oikawa was something of a slut, but this is better than his imagination. The omega’s whole body shakes at the feeling of Iwaizumi’s tongue swirling against his glands, the threat of his teeth. 

Iwaizumi thinks about that other alpha as he kisses the curve of Oikawa’s neck. He thinks about that other alpha’s bite marked on this skin that belongs to Iwaizumi.  _ Shit,  _ if only he could sink into him now, no alpha would fucking dare to  _ look _ at his omega. 

“I wanna bite you.” Iwaizumi breathes against his glands. “I wanna make this pretty neck mine.”

It’s all Oikawa can do just to whimper so goddamn loud. His head lolls to the side, even his back arches like his body is preparing to be mounted. 

“Fuck, you’re a good omega. You know that, Tooru? Presenting for me like this. I could bond you right fucking now. I bet your father would be fuming. But you’d be mine, hm? What could he do?” 

Pent-up anger from the last four days manifests in this boiling impulse to bite. He deserves it, Oikawa deserves to be bonded right here and right now, fucked like he’s never been fucked before in Iwaizumi’s bed, fucked until he forgets every alpha other than Iwaizumi Hajime. 

In a fleeting moment of rationality, he drags his lips away from the omega’s scent glands, though. 

What are they doing?

Iwaizumi’s grip weakens, and Oikawa slumps onto the ground. But it was on purpose, landing on his knees, spreading them pretty and leaning back on his heels. His tongue rolls out of his mouth. Fingers, his fingers trailing up Iwaizumi’s thighs until they reach the bulge in his sweats. 

Oikawa’s pupils are blown wide, dark. Fucking begging, looking up at the alpha like the omega can’t see anything other than fog. His scent glands, swollen and red and drenched with Iwaizumi’s saliva, Oikawa lets his head fall to the side again to present his scent glands for the alpha. 

Iwaizumi’s hips involuntarily jerk forward as Oikawa starts to slide his pants down, delicate fingertips brushing against his dick. 

“Oikawa, hold on-” He interrupts himself with a groan. 

The omega’s fingers reach his briefs. 

_ What are we doing?  _

“Oikawa.” Iwaizumi tugs the omega’s hands away. “Come on, get up.” 

“Why? Iwa, wait.” Oikawa tries to stop him desperately, pouting, like he might cry, but the alpha pulls his sweats back up. 

“I’m not fucking you while I’m pissed off.” 

At the words, Oikawa whimpers and falls forward with his ass up. Iwaizumi knows what the omega’s doing. 

“But I need to make it up to you, Iwa.” Oikawa pleads. “Please let me make it up to you.”

“You seriously think the best way to make up for lying to me is sex?”

“That’s what alphas always say.” 

Iwaizumi doesn’t know why he’s surprised at this point. “Damn it, I’m not like other alphas, Oikawa. I told you that.” 

“Then what can I do?” He sits back up on his knees.

“It’s not about you. It’s about us. It’s about what  _ we _ can do. Okay? We just-”

Both of them freeze as the apartment door opens. 

Sakusa stares at them, grocery bags in his hands.

“Sakusa.” Iwaizumi says.

“I thought you weren’t coming back for a few days.” Sakusa says.

“I wasn’t. I’m not. I just forgot my laptop.” 

Sakusa looks from the alpha in his black t-shirt and sweatpants, hair that hasn’t been washed in days, down to the omega kneeling on the floor with red bites dotting his neck, kneeling in front of Iwaizumi’s crotch. 

Before Iwaizumi can even begin to apologize, or swear that the omega wasn’t about to blow him, Sakusa just sets the groceries on the counter and disappears down the hallway. 

His bedroom door shuts with a soft click. 

Iwaizumi grabs Oikawa’s wrist, pulling him to his feet. “Come here.”

“Where are we going?”

“I have no fucking idea.”

Iwaizumi passes Oikawa his shoes, slips on his own. He takes Oikawa’s hand again, ignoring the thrill of bliss that comes with his touch, Oikawa’s hand in his where it belongs. 

“Iwa.”

“Come on, Oikawa.” He shuts the door behind them.

“Iwa, don’t go anywhere without me.”

“I won’t go anywhere without you.” He looks at Oikawa, at Oikawa’s eyes in dim hallway light. “I won’t.” 

They wake up his neighbors running down the hall on old carpet, but Iwaizumi smiles, his first smile in four days, and he doesn’t care if they wake up the whole goddamn apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> perhaps oikawa is listening to “505” by arctic monkeys in the car ...
> 
> ok notes notes notes  
> -my automatic thoughts told me to write noya & tanaka uber so have this  
> -that being said, please assume asanoya and tanaka x anyone you want ✨  
> -don’t feed bread to birds/geese/ducks, it’s bad for them !! ushi does not know this .. 💕  
> -in case you were wondering, this fic will most likely end up being 15-20 chapters :) i really don’t think it will exceed 20, but then again, who knows ^^  
> -sakuatsu next chapter xoxo
> 
> also! sometimes i post updates about fics on [tumblr](https://undercookeddaichi.tumblr.com/) if you’re ever interested :D or if you want to come say hi and be friends, my dms are always open, okay? ❤️
> 
> have a snack! drink a glass of water! wash your face before you go to bed tonight, and pat dry when you’re done :) take meds if you need to! look in the mirror and say “i am worth it” when you wake up tomorrow. i love you 💕


	13. Chapter 13

Cotton can only do so much against a scent like this. Particles, tainting the corners of space, polluting lungs blindly. A phenomenon strong enough to tear through masks. The cotton mask protecting, and failing to protect, Sakusa’s mouth and nose. 

He takes slow breaths. 

In his life of hyper-sensitivity to pheremones of all kinds, nothing has been as potent as the scent claiming their apartment as he sits cross-legged on his bed. He almost lost himself in front of Iwaizumi. He almost ran instead of walked to his bedroom, closed the door lightly behind him rather than slammed it. 

Iwaizumi’s scent isn’t the problem. It’s not that omega’s necessarily, either. It’s something about them together. The way their pheromones mingle together in the air. 

Sakusa doesn’t want to think about it that much. His focus is on keeping his heart rate steady, his hands from trembling the way they do when his anxiety spikes, the way his anxiety spikes when pheromones overwhelm him. 

All he asked was that Iwaizumi didn’t let an omega into their apartment. 

Was it really that hard?

That’s a stupid question. Of course it wasn’t that hard. But still, Sakusa exhales through his mask. He knows Iwaizumi had a good reason. 

Obviously, they aren’t best friends, but Sakusa considers Iwaizumi at least more than an acquaintance at this point. And at this point, he knows a few things about Iwaizumi. That he doesn’t lie. He’s pretty receptive to how those around him perceive him. If he gave himself a break, he might believe his own jokes are funny. 

Sakusa knows he’ll let Iwaizumi explain himself. He’ll probably forgive Iwaizumi.

Sometime in the near future, that is.

Not now.

Sakusa will never forgive Iwaizumi for these pheromones saturating the furniture, right now. 

He waits until he hears their apartment door abruptly shut before standing up, giving into the instructions scrolling through his head. Open the windows, set up his purifiers in the living room, spray air freshener everywhere it can reach. It won’t hurt to disinfect all of the doorknobs, and mop the floor where that omega was kneeling. Who knows what their hands have touched. 

His nose is sensitive enough that he can still pick up on omega, the aftertaste of his and Iwaizumi’s pheromones joining in an obnoxious yet intangible manifestation of PDA. But it’s better. He can take his mask off without wanting to vomit. That’s better. 

As he washes his hands an hour later, he brainstorms dinner. Iwaizumi probably won’t be home tonight. Knowing him, Sakusa might not see Iwaizumi for a few more days. 

He looks through his groceries. Whatever he makes, he’ll have leftovers. Good, he won’t have to cook for a few days. He hates cooking. 

And maybe it’s just the smell of the oil in the pan and freshly opened spices, but the omega scent doesn’t bother him after a few minutes. He gets used to it, to the point that it’s comforting in some instinctive way he detests, that he finds himself relaxing amidst pheromones he goes out of his way to avoid. 

No omegas in the apartment. Why was he always adamant about that? 

He turns the heat low on the stove. His phone, sitting on the counter, black and 92 percent charged. He drops his elbows on the counter, peering at it, like it might move or do something strange. It doesn’t, and he narrows his eyes. 

The call rings four times. 

“Am I hallucinating, or did you just call me?” 

“Unfortunately, you’re not hallucinating. Are you working tonight?” Sakusa asks.

Atsumu pauses. “No… Why?” 

“Do you want to have dinner together?” 

“Dinner? Like, now?” 

“Yeah. It’ll be ready in about twenty minutes.” 

Atsumu pauses again. 

“You mean, you’re cooking? In your own apartment? And you want me to come?” 

“Yes.” 

“I thought I wasn’t allowed inside. Ever.” 

“I changed my mind.”

“You changed your mind?”

“Are you coming?” 

“I can’t believe it, Omi.”

“Atsumu, just tell me if you’re coming.” 

“Of course I am!” 

There’s the sound of shuffling, clothes being wrinkled and tossed, Atsumu’s muffled voice as he shouts, “Samu, I’m going out!” and after a few more seconds, “Yeah, with Omi!” 

“Alright,” Atsumu’s voice becomes clear again. “I’ll be there soon. Want me to bring anything?”

“No. Are you walking?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t want you to walk, it’s already dark out.” Sakusa says. “Take a taxi. I’ll pay you back for it.” 

“Come on, I’ll be fine. I walk around at night all the time.” 

Sakusa, with Atsumu’s cinnamon on his mind, falls rigid against the phone. “I’m serious. I don’t want you doing that.” 

“Fine.” Atsumu sighs, and it sounds like he smiles. “I like it when you’re protective, Omi-kun.” 

“I’ll see you soon.” 

“Bye!” 

Atsumu hangs up first. 

This is demeaning. Staring at a dark phone screen, smiling. 

He resumes preparing dinner, but it occurs to him he isn’t wearing anything special and maybe he should be. Dinner… Something dark. 

It only takes him a few minutes to change into tight pants and button-down shirt, both as black as his hair, curiosity probing him to leave the top two buttons undone. His collar bones stand out beside the fabric. 

A little mascara, and since he’s feeling experimental tonight as is, some lip gloss. 

Just as Sakusa’s shutting the stove off, there’s a buzz from the door. 

Atsumu rubs his nose, blinks and fidgets with his hair in the camera. A button-down identical to the one Sakusa’s wearing, but it’s white, and he thinks there are three undone buttons rather than two. Skinny jeans and low-top sneakers. He looks pretty, even as grainy pixels. 

Sakusa lets him up. 

“It smells so good in here!” Atsumu praises as he steps into the apartment, eyes closed, loudly inhaling through his nose. “I didn’t know you could cook.” 

“I don’t like to.” Sakusa says. 

The omega’s eyes seem to light up as Sakusa opens his arms, an invitation. Atsumu hurries forward, nuzzles into him enthusiastically, wraps his arms around him and even begins to purr a little as Sakusa hugs him back. Sakusa buries his nose into Atsumu’s neck. They stand there, holding each other. A chain of insignificant movements, touches, notions Sakusa never would have imagined six months ago. 

And Sakusa loves it when Atsumu purrs. 

He’s been doing it more lately, ever since their first kiss. But that’s mostly because they’ve been spending more time together, and Sakusa’s let himself be more affectionate. More hugs, more nuzzling, forehead kisses and holding hands. Atsumu purrs at just about anything. 

Even as Sakusa pulls back, although Atsumu won’t let them separate completely by fitting his hand into Sakusa’s, the omega is still purring. 

“So this is it.” Atsumu looks around. “Omi-kun’s forbidden apartment.” 

“You’re the first person I’ve had over.” 

“The first person or the first omega?”

“The first omega. But I haven’t had anyone over at this specific apartment before.” 

“You mean you haven’t had an omega over your whole life?”

Sakusa nods. 

Atsumu looks like he’s about to say something snarky, but he must notice the discomfort on Sakusa’s face. He steps close to him, letting his free hand rest on the alpha’s chest. 

“I’m glad you trust me this much, Omi.” 

Sakusa responds by tilting his chin up, pressing their lips together. 

Somehow, Atsumu’s purring grows louder than it was. 

“I’m glad you’re the first one.” Sakusa says after they kiss. 

And then he kisses Atsumu’s cheek, and he kisses Atsumu’s forehead, and he moves Atsumu’s bangs to kiss him higher. Until Atsumu’s whole upper body is trembling with his purring that Sakusa worries his vocal chords might snap. Atsumu rubs their cheeks together. 

He rubs his cheek against Sakusa’s neck, too, but it doesn’t do much with his patches on. 

Atsumu looks up at him. “Can I take my patches off?” 

“I was just about to say that you can.” 

Peeling them off his neck, Atsumu stumbles a bit on his way to the trash can, only pulling his eyes away from the alpha to make sure he doesn’t accidentally miss, and then he’s back in Sakusa’s arms, drinking out of the alpha’s scent glands. 

This. Atsumu without his scent patches. To say Sakusa is used to it by now would be a lie. Each breath, each inhale feels more amazing than the last. 

It’s easy to feel angry at himself for withholding Atsumu’s scent for so long. At the same time, he wonders if waiting made it better. 

Sakusa nudges his nose against the omega’s scent glands. He holds onto Atsumu’s hips firmly, expecting him to nearly fall back just like he almost does, even with his nails digging into Sakusa’s neck. They haven’t talked about it in detail, but Sakusa has a feeling Atsumu hasn’t been with many people before given how easily he’s over-stimulated. 

Sakusa wouldn’t want it any other way. 

He scents Atsumu thoroughly, a sort of trance coming over him as his pheromones envelop the quivering omega beneath him. It’s hard to stop, the feeling of claiming Atsumu with his scent addictive, both of their instincts rejoicing at the sensation, but Sakusa gives Atsumu’s scent glands a soft lick before stepping back. Atsumu shudders.

Anyone who might smell Atsumu now would assume he’s bonded to Sakusa. For some anxiety-provoking reason, that makes the alpha happier then he’s willing to admit. 

“We need to eat before the food gets cold.”

Atsumu can only respond by purring, letting out a small whine, but a happy whine more than anything. He drapes himself over Sakusa with a lazy grin infecting his face. 

Before the omega arrived, Sakusa had put cups and silverware on opposite sides of the table, but the two of them can hardly stop nuzzling one another let alone sit that far apart. Sakusa prepares them both bowls, ladling food into each while Atsumu nibbles on the alpha’s neck, his hands unceasing as they tug at his shirt. 

“Did I tell you how good you look tonight, Omi?” Atsumu laughs into the alpha’s ear. “I love the color black on you.” 

“You do.”

“I dressed up for you, too.”

“I noticed. You look good in white.” 

And then they sit beside each other, legs and elbows touching. Atsumu pushes his spoon towards Sakusa, a gleam in his eye as he opens his mouth, hands folded in his lap. 

On another night, Sakusa would gag rather than agree to feed Atsumu his first bite. On another night. 

“Mmmm,” Atsumu shuts his eyes as he chews. “You should cook more often.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

But when he looks expectantly at Sakusa waiting for another bite, the alpha gives him a dead look. One was more than enough. 

“You have your own hands, don’t you.” Sakusa says.

“But it’s romantic when you feed me, Omi-kun!” 

“It’s not.”

Atsumu grumbles something under his breath, but at least he picks up his own spoon. 

“So,” the omega changes the subject. “Where’s your roommate? Iwa-chan.”

“Please don’t start calling him that.”

“I can’t help it.”

“You can.”

“Isn’t he usually home by now?”

“Not so much lately. He’s been out with his boyfriend.”

Atsumu rolls his eyes, takes another bite. “I remember that guy.”

“But I don’t know why he would be with him tonight. He’s engaged.”

“Who?”

“Iwaizumi’s boyfriend. He cheated, apparently.”

Atsumu’s mouth hangs open with chewed food on his tongue. 

“Close your mouth. That’s disgusting.” Sakusa’s forehead wrinkles.

“Excuse me?” Atsumu swallows aggressively. “Are ya kidding me, Omi-kun? Your roommate got cheated on and you didn’t tell me sooner?”

“Why would you need to know that.”

“That’s the kinda stuff you should tell me!”

“It’s not.”

“Of course it is!” Atsumu points his spoon at the alpha, eyebrows high above where they should be. “Well, I’m not surprised. He seemed like a douchebag.” Another mouthful.

“Mmm.”

As they eat, Sakusa finds himself watching Atsumu. His eyes, how the corners crinkle while he chews, and the small smile tugging his mouth. The faint thrum of his purr drowned out by dinner. He wipes his chin with his napkin, and blinks once, twice, taking another happy bite. 

Sakusa looks down at his own food. “You’re cute, you know.” 

Atsumu stops chewing. 

He looks frightened, if Sakusa had to give his expression an emotion, but then his whole face turns pink. 

“What?” 

Atsumu’s spoon clatters into his bowl as his elbows drop onto the table. He buries his face into his hands, and a sudden flux of pheromones pour from his neck that speak the words he can’t say himself. A mix of embarrassment. Surprise, mainly joy. 

Sakusa nudges Atsumu’s leg with his own. 

“I mean it, Atsumu.” 

His face is still hidden in his palms, but he leans into Sakusa’s chest. “Damn it, Omi, are you trying to make me cry?” He’s laughing. 

These pheromones really are like a drug, because Sakusa’s throat rumbles with a low purr of his own, and his hands wrap tentatively around Atsumu’s torso. 

“No. I’m just telling you something that I should be saying more often.” 

“I’m pretty sure I love you.” 

Sakusa tenses. His purring stutters, and stops. 

“I don’t know if I can say that yet.”

“I know.” Atsumu brings his hands down into his lap. “I know. Whenever you’re ready.” 

Sakusa hates that phrase, in a way. He hates the power it has. Subliminals. Words that feel like a promise he’s bound to break. He had a feeling Atsumu might use them at some point. Not tonight, he didn’t expect it to be tonight. But he also didn’t expect it to feel simple. 

It feels simple. 

Atsumu said “I love you,” and Sakusa is still the same person he was before he said it. 

It might feel simple to say it back to him. Not tonight, but in this lifetime. 

That thought in itself, maybe, might have made him a different person than he was before he thought it. 

“Also,” Atsumu rests his head on Sakusa’s shoulder. “I don’t think you need to say it outloud to know.”

“I agree with you.” 

Atsumu sits up enough to shovel another bite into his mouth, but he’s practically sitting in Sakusa’s lap at this point. That should bother Sakusa more than it does. In fact, he’s repulsed to find it kind of sweet. Like he wouldn’t mind if he ate every meal this close to Atsumu, sharing it with Atsumu. 

So he does love him back. 

As they finish up, Sakusa refuses to let Atsumu touch any of the dishes. Or anything, for that matter, other than the couch which he’s instructed to sit on quietly until the alpha finishes cleaning the kitchen. 

“Why won’t you let me help?” Atsumu whines, hanging over the back of the couch.

“Because I have a specific way I like to clean things. You can hold on for fifteen minutes.” 

“Can I?”

Sakusa’s glare makes him quiet. 

Fifteen minutes can’t pass quickly enough. Partially because of the noises coming from Atsumu’s phone irritating Sakusa to no end, but mostly because the omega’s pheromones have permeated the apartment enough that every inhale makes being away from him painful. Sakusa isn’t sure how he feels about these impulses, the way Atsumu without scent patches turns his instincts into live wires. He could get used to it, though. 

It’s domestic. This feels domestic, and Sakusa Kiyoomi has never felt so content imagining domesticity with Miya Atsumu. 

“Finally.” Atsumu says as Sakusa sits down on the couch beside him. 

Without thinking much about it, Sakusa opens his arms for the omega to fit into. He snuggles against him gladly, letting out an involuntary whine, and Sakusa rests his nose into Atsumu’s hair. He breathes in warm cinnamon. 

“What time is it?” Sakusa asks. 

“Around 9:30.” Atsumu says. “Do you wanna watch a movie?”  
“Not really.”

“Do you just wanna keep cuddling then?”

“Yeah.” Sakusa muffles a yawn. 

“Omi-Omi.”

“Hm?” 

“I don’t want to go home.”

“What do you mean?”

“Can I stay here tonight?”

Sakusa suddenly doesn’t feel tired anymore. 

“It’s totally fine if you’re not comfortable with that.” Atsumu sits back against the couch. “But I could sleep right out here, like the time you stayed at my apartment. Please?” His eyes get all round. Even his scent manages to grow sweeter. “I just- I don’t feel… comfortable leaving, I guess.” 

Sakusa knows the feeling he’s talking about. The thought of Atsumu leaving anytime soon, it makes him remember that he’s an alpha. Pheromones, it’s all just pheromones, but that doesn’t change much. 

“No.” Sakusa says.

“Why-”

“I don’t want you to sleep out here. You can sleep in my bedroom.” 

“Wait,” Atsumu leans forward, putting his hands on Sakusa’s leg. “Really?” 

“You should let your brother know.” 

“Does this mean I get to sleep in your clothes?” Atsumu leans in closer. 

“I probably have a shirt you can borrow.”

“Hell yeah!” Atsumu falls back onto his heels, arms raised like he won a trophy of some kind. “I love you so much, Omi-Omi.” 

“Is it really that exciting?” 

“You have no idea.” 

While Atsumu calls to let Osamu know he won’t be home tonight, Sakusa turns the lamp on in his bedroom, pulls an extra pillow out of his closet. He finds every blanket he owns, too, piling them on his bed in an attempt to copy how the omega sleeps at home. 

He’s never had an omega stay the night before. 

His anxiety stirs at that, because what if there aren’t enough blankets? Are there specific things that omegas need? More of the alpha in him worrying about taking proper care of his omega, more pheromones. 

His omega. 

His boyfriend.

Spending the night, sleeping in his bed.

Sakusa wishes he thought about this more before agreeing to it. 

He isn’t a virgin, but sex hasn’t been good in the past. Or maybe sex was as good as it could have been with an omega wearing scent patches, and his incessant need to be in control. Stressful, rushed orgasms. 

Then again, everything has been different with Atsumu. 

He tugs a fresh pillowcase over one of the pillows. 

Regardless. That’s assuming they’re going to have sex. 

But Sakusa is a normal alpha, afterall. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about doing certain things with Atsumu before. It’s not like he hasn’t masturbated with the omega in mind. He assumes Atsumu is the same way. 

Regardless.

“I don’t know.” Atsumu says into his phone. 

Sakusa comes back into the living room, finding a few things to tidy as the omega finishes up. 

“Sometime tomorrow morning probably.” Atsumu puts his hand on his hip. 

“I’m an adult, Samu.” 

“Yeah.”

“Fine.”

“I won’t!”

“Shut up. You’re disgusting.” 

“Bye.” 

He hangs up with a groan. 

Sakusa approaches the omega, tilts his chin up with his finger. “Everything okay?”

Atsumu’s eyes seem to widen for a moment. 

“What? Yeah. Everything is- Everything’s fine.” He swallows, and Sakusa feels his muscles move on his fingertip. “Samu’s just annoying like usual. Overprotective as hell. You know how he is.” 

“Mmm.” Sakusa drops his hand. “I put out a toothbrush and new tube of toothpaste for you in the bathroom. And one of my old shirts. Do you need anything else?” 

“That should be fine.”

“Let me know if not.”

“You’re so considerate, Omi-Omi.” Atsumu’s eyes slide halfway shut as he smiles up at the alpha. 

Sakusa changes out of his own clothes while Atsumu’s in the bathroom, somewhat self-conscious about what to wear since he usually sleeps in boxers and sweatpants. The omega said he looked good in black, though, so he slips into black briefs and black sweats. He’ll put on a shirt if Atsumu wants. He doesn’t think he will.

He sits on his bed with a book, his back leaning against the headboard. 

For now, he’ll just assume no sex. 

There are condoms and lube and... other things in his bedside table if they need it, but it’s better to assume they won’t do anything unless Atsumu explicitly asks. 

For now. 

Atsumu knocks on the door hesitantly a few minutes later.

It’s suddenly much harder to assume no sex. 

Sakusa doesn’t  _ want _ to assume no sex. 

Not when Atsumu’s standing under the door frame in one of Sakusa’s oversized grey t-shirts, sleeves that hang to his elbows and a hem that stops just beneath his underwear. It’s the only thing he’s wearing. Red dusts his cheeks and his nose. His fingers tug at the edge of the shirt. 

“Omi.”

Sakusa forces his gaze up from Atsumu’s legs to his eyes. “What?” 

But he doesn’t think Atsumu was saying his name for any particular reason, realizing the omega’s eyes are fixated on his exposed torso. On his arms, his abdomen leading down to… 

The omega’s pheromones abruptly hit him. A rich, disgustingly sweet scent begging for an alpha. It’s not his heat, his heat isn’t due for a while, but Sakusa can’t begin to imagine what Atsumu smells like in heat if this is what he smells like when he’s horny. 

Atsumu must pick up on Sakusa’s pheromones then, because his head nearly rolls to the side as he lets out a keening whine. He stumbles to the side, saved by the wall. 

Sakusa sets his book down as he slides off the bed. Deep breaths would normally help, but they’re only making his head feel more clouded. 

He catches Atsumu before the omega really falls, steadying him against the wall with one hand and brushing his bangs aside with the other. 

“Atsumu.”

The omega keens again, loudly. 

“Omi… You look- you look so fucking good shirtless.” His smile is bleary. “Sorry, shit, I’m sorry. I haven’t been with anyone… in a while.” 

“I figured as much.” 

“You smell good…”

“You smell better.”

“That can’t be possible.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Atsumu whimpers. “Don’t ask.”

“Wait. Hold on.” Sakusa keeps the omega steady. “We should talk about this.”

“About what? Sex?”

“I have a certain way I like to do things.”

“So... What you’re trying to tell me is your kinky.”

“If that’s what you want to call it… I don’t… I don’t like feeling like I’m not in control.”

“I know that, Omi.”

“We can do things simply tonight since-”

“No.” Atsumu grabs Sakusa’s hand. “You didn’t give me time to say that I’m the same way.” He smiles. “Consider me yours, Kiyoomi. Feel free to ruin me.” 

Sakusa feels his own pupils dilate, his own scent change. Atsumu does, too, the way he tenses. He whines, softly. 

“You’re okay with your wrists being tied?”

Atsumu stiffens. He nods. 

“I want you to have a safe word.” Sakusa says. 

“Hm… Why doesn’t Omi-Omi pick it?” 

“Cinnamon.”

“Cinnamon.” 

Sakusa grounds himself. And then he cups Atsumu’s cheeks. 

He kisses him gentler than air. 

If he lets himself do anything more than that, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stop. 

Already, just from one kiss, Sakusa can tell Atsumu is a noisy omega. He purrs against Sakusa’s lips, deeply and strongly enough that his throat vibrates from the sensation, and the noise itself is only rivaled by his whining. Sakusa moves one hand down to steady the omega’s neck and a whine tears itself out of him. He pushes into the kiss just a little more and Atsumu’s whimper echoes in the bedroom. 

The omega is so fucking tense, too. His entire body quivers with the tension of hormones and an alpha pressed up against him. 

Sakusa doesn’t like to use his alpha register. Simply put, he never needs to. 

But sex is different. 

“Relax.” He murmurs into Atsumu’s ear. 

The omega mewls. High and needy, as the command takes over his body. He falls slack, every muscle, every cell within Atsumu relaxing at the alpha’s orders. Sakusa has to catch him again, supporting his neck and his head against his chest. He lifts him up bridal style. 

Sakusa loves his omegas like this. 

Pliable. Unresisting. Desperate. 

Requiring wholehearted trust, dependency. 

The omega submitting to the alpha’s every will and want. 

And judging by his delicious scent, purrs that may yet break his vocal chords, the smile creasing his eyes, Atsumu loves to be like this. 

Sakusa rests him on the bed. Atsumu stretches his neck to expose his scent glands, swollen and red, his back struggling to arch off the bed against the alpha command still willing his body to relax. 

“Omi...” He whimpers. 

“Be patient, Atsumu.” Sakusa pulls open his bedside drawer. “Take your shirt off for me.” Another command. 

Atsumu’s mewl breaks as he pulls the alpha’s shirt over his head. From the corner of his eye, Sakusa rakes over his exposed body, muscle and smooth skin. He’s fantasized about ravaging this body more than once. 

“Now raise your hands above your head. Just like that, with your wrists together.” Sakusa shuts the drawer, climbing over Atsumu until he’s straddling him. The omega’s dick twitches underneath his briefs. “Hold still.” 

Sakusa loops the black rope around the omega’s wrists, as natural as breathing given the amount of time he’s spent practicing this type of restraint. With a final tug, he releases Atsumu’s arms. The omega tests it, gently, at first, as he tries to pry his wrists apart. And then with more force. But the rope doesn’t let up. No matter how hard Atsumu tries to free his hands, he won’t be able to. 

Sakusa loves his omegas like this. 

“Look at you.” 

He kisses him, relishing in the knowledge that Atsumu can’t touch him unless he chooses. Tongue isn’t usually something he enjoys, but the power high sends him pressing into the omega’s mouth, too, thrilled as Atsumu’s jaw pops open without much persuasion. Mint toothpaste, Sakusa forces the omega’s tongue down to trace his teeth. Warm, dark as eye contact and invigorating. 

He’s barely been touched, and Atsumu is coming undone. His eyes, glazed over under dim shadows, and lips, glistening, parted and whining like the alpha, his tongue, is something to be worshipped. 

Sakusa ignores the pitiful noise Atsumu makes as he stops the kiss, climbs off the bed once more. But the omega falls silent as he watches Sakusa, as Sakusa stands and pulls his sweats and underwear off. 

“Holy  _ fuck,” _ Atsumu groans, staring at Sakusa’s free cock. 

The alpha gives himself a couple pumps as he approaches the bed. On average, alphas have the longest length, the widest girth, but Sakusa also knows that he’s a few centimeters more than the average. Atsumu, whimpering and licking his lip, seems to see that, too. 

“Up.” Sakusa commands from the edge of the bed. “On your knees.” 

With his hands tied, it takes Atsumu a few moments to figure out how to readjust, but he does, and he moves towards Sakusa, falls back onto his heels. 

_ Obedient.  _

The omega involuntarily leans forward, his eyes just a bit higher than Sakusa’s cock, whining. 

_ Wanting.  _

“What do you want?” Sakusa asks him, tilting Atsumu’s jaw up like he did earlier. And like earlier, Atsumu swallows, whimpers gently, and the alpha can feel it. 

“I wanna take you. In my mouth.” 

“Do you deserve it?”  
Atsumu, despite the fog in his eyes, finds it in him to smirk. 

“I dunno, Omi. Do I?” 

Sakusa’s light fingertips ghosting Atsumu’s chin harden, turn into pressure gripping the omega’s jaw instead. He pulls him up to meet Sakusas’s mouth halfway. But the kiss isn’t tender like it was before, as the alpha’s teeth nip at Atsumu’s bottom lip. The omega’s high moan sends Sakusa’s alpha instincts to heaven. 

He releases Atsumu, but his fingers stay locked around Atsumu’s jaw. His cheeks squish slightly, a bit of saliva dribbling down his full lip. Any remaining attitude is contained to his eyes. 

“Good omegas don’t talk like that. What do you say?”  
The omega shifts on his knees, wrists fidgeting beneath restraints.

“Atsumu. What do you say?”  
“I’m sorry. I’ll be good.”

“What do you call me?”

“I’ll be good, alpha.”

One last fingertip traces his throat, and then Sakusa lets him go. 

“Good boy.” 

Atsumu whines at those words, brightens at those words, the way a puppy might act when given a treat and a pat on the head. It sends a blinding amount of heat rolling into the alpha’s dick. 

He rests his hand on the back of Atsumu’s head, and guides his cock towards Atsumu’s lips. The omega looks starving. 

“Now what do you say.” 

His voice is just above a hush. What night would sound like if night could speak. 

Atsumu looks up at the alpha. “Can I?”

“Yes, you can.”

Atsumu’s jaw drops open, his tongue quivering as Sakusa’s dick approaches his mouth. The alpha slides into him, gently. 

Sakusa exhales a groan at the feeling of warmth enveloping his head. The alpha in him wants to ram his cock into the back of the omega’s head, down his throat, fuck his mouth until he cums into Atsumu’s stomach, but Sakusa is more refined than that. 

He’s cautiously slow, pushing deeper into Atsumu’s mouth, getting used to the positioning of the omega’s teeth, how his cheeks fit around his cock. 

Atsumu’s noisiness proves to feel fucking amazing. The vibrations of his purrs, whimpers massaging the alpha’s dick better than anything Sakusa’s ever pictured while picturing his length in Atsumu’s mouth. 

Sakusa eases the omega’s head closer. He feels his cock bump the back of his mouth. 

“Are you okay?” He runs a hand through Atsumu’s hair. 

Atsumu does his best to nod, and Sakusa hisses out another groan at the feeling. 

Bringing his other hand to the omega’s cheek, he pushes in just a little more, curious to see how well Atsumu can deepthroat but deciding that’s for another time, and then he pulls out until his head almost falls off the omega’s tongue. 

He begins to set a rhythm, until Atsumu’s eyes roll each time he feels his throat bump against his cock. Until he picks up the pace enough that Atsumu’s entire body jolts as Sakusa fucks his tongue. And the omega takes it, not moving a voluntary muscle while the alpha uses his mouth the way he wants, blissed out with the sheer contentment an omega feels from tasting cock. 

“That’s a good omega,” Sakusa swallows between strained breaths, his gaze never leaving Atsumu’s. “Good omega.” 

This is what it’s supposed to feel like. This is what it  _ can  _ feel like. 

Too good. 

Sakusa feels a tightening around the base of his cock, pressure as his knot threatens to start the process of inflating, and he slips out of Atsumu’s mouth on his next thrust. 

“Omi,” Atsumu nearly falls forward, catches himself on his bound wrists. “Omi,  _ fuck.” _

Bringing both hands to Atsumu’s face, Sakusa kneels on the bed, pushes the omega up and attacks his neck. With care, kissing sensitive skin with delicacy he has to focus hard to maintain, kissing down his throat to his scent glands. 

_ “Omi,” _ Atsumu whines, or chokes maybe, as Sakusa exhales a hot breath over his glands. 

Sakusa hands trail down the omega’s body to his chest. “That’s not what you call me.” 

“Ahh, uhng- Alpha-  _ shit, Omi-” _

Fingertips as faint as the air rub circles into Atsumu’s nipples. No matter how the omega tries to arch his back, bring his chest closer to Sakusa’s fingers, no matter the anguished noises pouring out of Atsumu’s damp lips, eyebrows slanted like he’s in pain but only in pleasure. Like air. 

Sakusa brings his thigh in between the omega’s legs. He doesn’t give Atsumu’s scent glands a moment to breathe with his tongue, his overstimulated nipples a breath without a rub or a tug or pinch. 

And like he expects, Atsumu tries to grind down on his thigh. 

_ “Fuck!” _ Atsumu cries out, an especially harsh pinch coming down on his nipple. 

“I didn’t say you could do that.” Sakusa lifts his head to look the omega in his low-lidded eyes. “Did I.” 

“N-No. Alpha.” 

“You’ll feel good when I let you.” 

The omega gasps, falls against Sakusa’s shoulder as his nipples are finally released. 

“Are you alright?” The alpha wraps an arm around him, whispers into his ear, drags a finger down his spine where it makes him shiver. 

“Yeah.” Atsumu breathes. “Better t-than alright.” 

“Good.” Sakusa murmurs. And then his voice drops a register as he says, “On your back.” 

The omega has no choice but to strain against his bonds, pull himself away from the alpha and slump back onto the bed. Sakusa looks him over, at his masterpiece, Atsumu, chest heaving and hands tied and scent glands glistening with saliva, nipples dark and hard, cock desperately pushing against his briefs. 

He runs his fingers along the omega’s skin just above his waistband, enjoying how Atsumu convulses at his touch, bites his lip and squeezes his eyes and stretches his hands wide. His toes curl, and Sakusa makes sure he stays that way as he inches his underwear down the omega’s thighs. 

Teasing is an artform. 

As Atsumu’s cock springs out, pink and throbbing and omega, Sakusa runs a single finger up his shaft, and then pulls it away. The omega’s neck comes off the bed, his throat rolls with exasperated noises he couldn’t hold back if he tried. 

“Fuck, fuck, alpha, fuck,” He seethes. From where he’s kneeling, Sakusa can’t see Atsumu’s irises anymore, his head arched. “Don’t stop, touch me, please, I need-”

“You’ll get it when I decide.” Sakusa moves off the bed again. 

He takes a condom out of his bedside drawer, but Atsumu’s mewl brings his attention back to him. The omega whimpers again, staring at the condom with tears in the corners of his eye. 

“No, alpha, fill me.” Atsumu begs. “I wanna feel you fill me.” He whines behind his words. 

“No. I’m using a condom.” 

The command forces Atsumu to look away, his whines immediately falling silent. 

It’s hormones, Sakusa knows that because he’s tempted to fuck Atsumu until he gets pregnant in spite of his birth control, but the alpha’s rationality overrules this one. He rolls the condom over his length, purring faintly as he does. 

The numbingly sweet smell Atsumu’s slick has been permeating in the bedroom since he first stepped in, but the scent is astronomical now that he’s fully exposed. Sakusa’s purr rumbles a little louder knowing other alphas pay for a glimpse of this scent while he, and only he, has the omega splayed on his own bed, fully submitted. His to do what he wants with. 

Sakusa climbs back onto the bed. In between Atsumu’s trembling legs. He drags a finger down his torso, stops before he reaches the omega’s dick pressed flat against his stomach. Instead, he runs his fingers down his thighs, up the curve of his ass on the bed, following a trail of slick. 

He presses a gentle finger against his entrance. 

“God fuck-” Atsumu sucks in a breath as Sakusa presses his finger in. Two fingers. 

“You’re wet enough for two.” Sakusa says. “Good.”

_ “Alpha…”  _ Atsumu’s cut off by a third. 

“Three, hm. Greedy.” 

“Just  _ fuck me _ , Omi.” Atsumu chokes, whines. 

The alpha removes his fingers one at a time, as slowly as he can restrain himself, deciding that can suffice for a punishment for now. His hips jerk reflexively a couple times, searching for an omega to sink into.

Atsumu will be punished properly next time. Thoroughly. 

“Present for me.” 

Command.

Atsumu’s body responds with another high mewl, agitation as he readjusts to get on his knees and elbows with his ass curved high in the air, his neck dropping to the side to expose his scent glands. 

An omega falling into the highest form of submission, slick this close to his nose, Sakusa feels himself slipping to the alpha in him. 

For the first time, he doesn’t resist it. 

His muscles know how to move on their own, fingers digging into Atsumu’s hips, yanking his ass back to meet his cock. A primal sound Sakusa’s never heard himself make before escapes him. He sinks into the omega. 

Atsumu’s body accepts him willingingly, but Sakusa can feel his walls straining, tightening at the sheer size of his cock, how he pushes in until he’s sure he’s in Atsumu’s stomach, going that much and farther on the next thrust, the next. 

He wraps his arm under the omega’s waist and grips his cock to keep him from cumming before he wants. Atsumu’s body shakes in reaction, but the most he can manage is a moan that pierces the bedroom walls. His desperate noises stutter, though, as Sakusa’s other hand finds his hair, yanks him back. His body, beautiful, moaning, a perfect arch like the sculpture he is. 

“Fuck!” Atsumu shouts. His prostate, and Sakusa all but stops pounding into him. 

The alpha slows, delivering agonizingly precise hits, directly to Atsumu’s sweet spot, snaking his hand from the omega’s hair to cup his jaw, his throat. 

“You don’t cum until I let you.” Sakusa reminds him.

And then his impulses take over, fucking into Atsumu with such relentless cruelty that tears run down the omega’s flushed cheeks, that Sakusa feels pressure explode at the base of his cock. Atsumu mewls with each jerk of his body, his neck only supported by Sakusa’s hand. 

The lingering alpha command instructing him to present is the only thing keeping his body upright. 

Atsumu’s scent glands swell, bloom with the smell of fertility, making Sakusa forget that he’s using birth control for the moment as the alpha feels the beginnings of his knot catch. He releases his hold on the omega’s cock. Atsumu cums immediately, loud and desperately like it’s the first and last orgasm of his entire life, like his life’s purpose is to cum. 

Sakusa pushes as far as he can into Atsumu’s stomach. At the same time his knot catches, he growls, another sound he hasn’t heard himself make before, and he bites down onto the omega’s shoulder to satiate his need to  _ bite _ . 

The omega cums again at the feeling of Sakusa’s knot, instinctively arching his back more to feel the stretch in his ass. Sakusa hisses through his fangs in Atsumu’s skin. He lets go slowly, gently, and licks the area profusely. Eventually, he deflates enough to pull out, roll off the condom and tie it. 

Atsumu slumps to the mattress. 

“Atsumu,” Sakusa moves to the other side of the bed, resting against the headboard. He lifts the omega by his underarms. “Come here.”

“Omi…” Atsumu mumbles. 

His limbs are shaky, eyes glittering, but he gets the energy to cling onto Sakusa. He wraps his arms around him, brings his legs up to hug his chest. 

“I didn’t take you literally enough when you said you haven’t been with anyone in a while.” Sakusa says. 

He caresses Atsumu’s warm cheekbone. 

“Yeah,” The omega begins purring, but it’s hoarse. “I meant it. And no one’s fucked me that hard before, either, Omi-Omi.” 

“Was it too much?” 

“Mnm, was perfect.”

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t say that if I wasn’t.” Some of his sass returns. “I haven’t felt that good before.” 

Sakusa stares at the deep brown of Atsumu’s eyes. 

“I haven’t, either.”

“I really love you, Omi. You know that?”

“I know.”

“You’re gonna make me shower before bed, aren’t you.”

“Both of us need to. And I have to change the sheets. And get you a different shirt.”

“Can I keep it?”

“Keep what?”

“One of your shirts.” Atsumu traces the alpha’s collarbones. “I like sleeping in them.” 

“I’ll give you one.”

“Damn, I love you.” 

“You keep saying that.”

“And I’m gonna keep saying that until you’re sick of hearing it.” 

Sakusa doesn’t hate how that sounds. 

How it sounds.

_ I love you.  _

“That might be longer than you think.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> where is my femme sakusa >:(  
> honest to god this chapter was supposed to be 1/2 sakuatsu 1/2 iwaoi but instead i present this ♥️  
> i headcanon a very kinky sakuatsu w/ god complex sakusa and masochist atsumu & i hope you enjoyed them 🥺🥺  
> but really hhhhh i did my very best writing the smut, but i def struggle with it more than anything. i’m very open to feedback if you have any !!  
> next update we’re back to our regularly scheduled iwaoi :D ✨
> 
> whenever i’m anxious, i like making tea and taking deep breaths over the steam rising from the mug. i like looking at fanart and watching haikyuu text youtube videos. i like sitting under a fuzzy blanket up to my nose. maybe you can try these things when you get anxious, too, love 💕 did you have some water and good food today? go ahead and have some now :)  
> i love you


	14. Chapter 14

Maybe he’s lucid dreaming. 

Oikawa knows he’s in a dream. He’s not really laying on white air that’s warm, that feels the way clouds look, and everything’s not really sort of pink. He’s conscious while sleeping… This has to be a lucid dream. 

He lets his eyes slide closed. A deep breath, and  _ god, _ who knew dreams could smell good. This dream smells really good. So good that everything gets pinker and his cloud feels warmer. He smiles. 

He smiles, and his head lightens. His lungs expand to feel more of that good smell throughout his whole body. Somewhere far away, the back of his throat rumbles softly, the blossom of a purr. 

Oikawa missed this. Purring. 

He should try to lucid dream more often. 

His eyes open. 

And then it takes a moment for him to realize. 

Quiet, other than the soft sound of his own purrs. 

Nothing is pink. 

And  _ shit,  _ he isn’t on a cloud, and  _ wait,  _ he’s in a bedroom he doesn’t recognize, and  _ oh god, _ Iwaizumi. 

Oikawa jolts up in bed, eyes wide and vocal chords unmoving. 

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Iwaizumi jerks up beside him, groggy, like he just woke up, too. “It’s just me, Oikawa. Just me.” 

“No, I know.” Oikawa rubs his eyes hard. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“You…” Iwaizumi leans over, leans in closer to his face. “You’re blushing.” 

_ Goddammit.  _

“No, I’m not.” Oikawa presses his palms against his cheeks.

“Uh, yeah, you are.” 

“It’s my makeup. My blush.”

“You took your makeup off last night.” 

“I did?” 

“Mhm.” Iwaizumi sighs, but it’s gentle, and he brings strong arms around Oikawa’s chest. “Come on. Lie back down with me.” He pulls the omega towards him, both of them laying back on sweet-smelling pillows. 

Oikawa knows he’s still blushing, but he lets Iwaizumi tilt his chin towards the alpha, their faces close. He feels small with his hands curled against his chest, Iwaizumi’s arms wrapped around him. 

That comfortable warmth that comes on weekend mornings. Like anxiety doesn’t exist, and he was born in these sheets with Iwaizumi. He’ll die in these sheets with Iwaizumi. 

Oikawa’s still blushing, but it’s from the way Iwaizumi’s staring at him now. Half-lidded eyes dark enough to make Oikawa’s heart forget to beat. Staring at him, at his own wide eyes and quivering lips and hair that must look awful. 

Oikawa thinks he can feel how much Iwaizumi loves him, like this. And he still loves Iwaizumi more. 

He snuggles closer, so that his head under Iwaizumi’s chin and his nose is pressed against the loyalty that is Iwaizumi’s chest. Iwaizumi holds him tighter. He buries his nose in the omega’s hair. 

“Why’d you stop?” Iwaizumi murmurs. 

“Stop what?” 

“Purring. You looked so damn cute purring. In your sleep, too. I didn’t know omegas did that.” 

Oikawa tenses. “We don’t!”

“Clearly you do.”

“Well, what were you doing that made me purr while I was unconscious then? You were taking advantage of me.” 

“What? I was just running my hands through your hair.”

“Really?” 

“I let out some pheromones, too, but just the calming stuff. And isn’t purring a good thing?” 

“Well- I mean- It is…” 

Iwaizumi laughs, kisses Oikawa’s head. “Then what’s the problem?” 

“It’s a Koushi thing.” The omega grumbles. “We made an agreement to not let alphas make us purr.”

“Ever?”

“We didn’t really think it through that much, Iwa-chan! That was back in high school, god. I still won, though.”

“You won?”

“Daichi made Koushi purr before you did.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever understand you two.”

“It’s because you’re not an omega.” Oikawa playfully nudges Iwaizumi’s collarbones. “Shut up,  _ alpha.”  _

Oikawa doesn’t have time to breathe as Iwaizumi pulls the omega away from his chest, their faces closer than they were before, something different in the green of Iwaizumi’s eyes. His fingers grip Oikawa’s chin, holding him in place but still retaining something tender, something Iwaizumi. 

“What’d you call me?” 

Oikawa feels a little bit of slick leak down his thigh. 

And then there’s an abrupt knock on the door followed by, “Hey, just wanted to let you- Oh, fuck, my bad!” 

The two of them jump apart like the other is electricity. 

“Why would you knock and then immediately open the door?” Iwaizumi says loudly, sits up and shifts to the opposite side of the bed with red cheeks. 

Oikawa gasps at how cold his chin feels where Iwaizumi’s fingers had just been. At the immediate urge he has to curl up in the alpha’s arms. 

Two feet is anxious. They’re only two feet apart in the same bed, the same sheets, but the omega hasn’t been with Iwaizumi for five days and it should be pathetic, but five days burned, and two feet is anxious. 

“You can come in, Matsukawa.” 

The door cracks, and the beta Oikawa recognizes from the carwash peeks into the room. His eyes drift from the omega to Iwaizumi, a grin splitting beneath raised eyebrows. 

“Well, this is a surprise.” Matsukawa steps through the door. “When did Oikawa get here?” 

“It’s a long story,” Iwaizumi sighs. “But this- is this alright with you? We’ll be out of here as soon as possible, a couple more days tops. I’m sorry for not checking with you. I must’ve been asleep when you and Hanamaki got home last night.” 

Matsukawa shrugs, sniffs. “Fine with me. As long as my apartment doesn’t get invaded by rich people looking for your boyfriend, I don’t care.”

“I don’t think my father will bother,” Oikawa says, sitting up in the oversized t-shirt he slept in. Iwaizumi’s t-shirt. “I doubt he considers me his son at this point.”

“I’m gonna assume that’s a good thing.” Matsukawa nods. “Cool. Well, there’s breakfast whenever you’re ready. Iwaizumi eats like a horse so we made extra. Plenty for you, Oikawa.”

“Shut up.” Iwaizumi says. 

As the door closes, they can hear Matsukawa groan like he’s stretching and, “Hey, Makki, I think Iwaizumi got laid in the guest room!” 

“Oh, god.” The alpha falls back onto the covers, shielding his face with his hands. “Bastard. Sorry about him.” 

Oikawa takes that as an opportunity to wriggle against the alpha’s body, wrap his leg over Iwaizumi’s thighs and bury his head in the crook of his arm, dig fingers into skin. An unintentional whimper escapes his mouth as he nudges the alpha’s scent glands with his nose. Like this, he wants to stay like this, this close to Iwaizumi, breathing his scent rather than oxygen, for the rest of his life, and the rest of his next life, too. 

Iwaizumi laughs softly. “Someone’s needy this morning.” 

He sits up and lifts the omega with him, repositioning Oikawa in his lap. Oikawa whimpers again, just at Iwaizumi’s sheer ability to pick him up like that. He wraps his legs tightly around the alpha’s waist, his nose returning to his scent glands. But Iwaizumi tilts the omega’s jaw up, rubs his neck along Oikawa’s cheeks and glands, and scents him an inappropriate amount seeing as they’re in a bedroom that isn’t their own. 

“Not- I’m not needy.”

“Yeah. You are.” 

Oikawa could die being scented. He’s never liked it that much before, an archaic thing alphas like doing because they like doing anything that gives them more power, power to say “this one’s mine,” but when Iwaizumi scents him…  _ This one’s mine.  _ It’s all he wants. It’s all his body wants, and his scent glands swell greedily. 

“You like being scented, don’t you.” 

_ God,  _ the way Iwaizumi’s voice gets low like that. Oikawa feels more slick leak out of him. His vocal chords beg to purr, and he almost can’t believe himself as he lets it wash over him, willingly. 

Iwaizumi nibbles Oikawa’s scent glands, a whine tearing through the omega’s purring. Without thinking, Oikawa grinds his ass down onto Iwaizumi’s thigh, only to have his jaw abruptly jerked down into a kiss. 

Iwaizumi releases the kiss after a moment. “You’re already this wet?” 

He kisses the omega again, licking the omega’s bottom lip and laughing against his mouth when Oikawa obediently opens his mouth for the alpha’s tongue. “And you just woke up?” 

“I can’t help it,” The omega whimpers, grinds down again. 

“I don’t want you to.” 

Iwaizumi kisses him again, slipping his tongue into the omega’s mouth, but to taste him more than anything. It wakes Oikawa up kinder, gentler than a cup of coffee would. The alpha’s hands rub up and down his back. 

It’s slow. All of Iwaizumi’s touches, his lips on Oikawa’s lips, slow like the sun is slow when it rises. 

Iwaizumi brushes the back of his finger over Oikawa’s cheekbone. “You hungry?” 

“No.”

“I think that’s a lie.” He kisses Oikawa’s collarbone. “You just don’t want to get out of bed yet.”

“Maybe… But I think I want to talk first. I think we should talk first.” 

It doesn’t feel like Oikawa ran onto the sidewalk gripping Iwaizumi’s hand less than twelve hours ago. That feels like days, years ago as Iwaizumi called them a taxi and told the driver an address Oikawa didn’t recognize, arrived at an apartment building he’d never seen. The only semblance of familiarity were walls covered in pictures of that beta Oikawa knew from the carwash and his boyfriend. 

“Wait- Are we at your friend’s apartment?” Oikawa had asked, refusing to let go of the alpha’s hand even as Iwaizumi made a cup of tea for them both. 

“Yeah. I’ve been staying here since- well, since Sunday night I guess.”

“Why?”

“I needed a change of scenery.” 

“...Because of me.”

Iwaizumi hadn’t looked up. He just stared at hot water in mugs that didn’t belong to him. 

“Yeah. Because of you.” 

They didn’t talk after that, sipping tea in the guest bedroom, but they never let go of each other. At some point, Oikawa’s eyelids couldn’t stay open any longer. Iwaizumi caught his tea before it slipped, and he must’ve caught the omega, too, because Oikawa dreamt of clouds. 

Neither of them wanted to talk last night. 

This morning, though, Oikawa knows they need to at least think about talking, because there’s a lot Iwaizumi doesn’t know, and there’s a lot he doesn't know, either. At least they’re together now. And Iwaizumi said he won’t go anywhere without Oikawa. 

As long as he won’t go anywhere without Oikawa, the omega doesn’t mind if they lose their voices altogether. 

“Are we okay?” Oikawa asks. 

Iwaizumi looks between the omega’s eyes, like he doesn’t know which one to focus on. 

“We’re more okay than we were this time yesterday.”

“Do you forgive me?” 

“That’s kind of a loaded question, Oikawa.” 

“I know.” 

“But I guess… I guess I understand why you lied about it. You didn’t have much of a choice.”

Oikawa nods quickly, relieved at those words. 

“Yes, yes, exactly, it wasn’t my choice. At all.”

“But you could’ve explained that before.”

“But you would’ve reacted the same way.”

“But it would’ve been your decision.” Iwaizumi’s scent spikes, pissed. The omega instinctively flinches, drenched in it, but Iwaizumi’s hands on his hips are weights. “We could’ve had a conversation about it privately. I wouldn’t have found out at a fucking party.” 

Oikawa bows his head. “I’m sorry. I know I fucked up.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“I know. Iwa, I’m sorry.”

“Hey. You already apologized.” Iwaizumi tilts his chin up. “I’m just happy you’re here with me now. That’s the most important thing, right? But what about that other alpha?”

“Ushijima?”

“Yeah, whatever. Isn’t he gonna be pissed?”

“I don’t think so.” Oikawa shakes his head, rubs his fingers into Iwaizumi’s shoulders. “My father’s probably angry, though. He doesn’t know where I am.”

“Fuck that guy.”

“Fuck him.” 

“Alright. Well, we’ll just… take things one day at a time.” 

“Okay.” 

“Ready for breakfast?”

“I love you, Iwa.”

“I love you.”

Iwaizumi hooks the omega’s legs around his waist and tucks his head close to his shoulder, standing with a groan mixed with a yawn, and Oikawa squeals, because Iwaizumi’s hair tickles his ear and this is making him horny again. The scent enveloping him is warm, any frustration gone, but possessive now. 

Oikawa resists as Iwaizumi tries to set him down at the bedroom door. 

“Carry me!”

“I’m not carrying you ten feet into the other room. Plus, we’re guests.”

“So?”

“Use your legs.”

“Iwa-chaaaaan.” 

But the alpha is strong, and Oikawa’s whimpers fall on apathetic ears. He settles for hugging Iwaizumi’s bicep as they follow good smells to the kitchen.

Matsukawa and another beta stand at the counter, phones in one hand and coffees in the other, standing close enough to each other that their elbows and shoulders and thighs touch. 

Plates take up all of the counter space. It reminds Oikawa of breakfast at his own home, although the silverware is nicer and the food is healthier than this array. 

His mouth waters. 

“Morning.” Matsukawa grins at them over the top of his coffee. 

“Good to finally meet you.” The other beta, his boyfriend, nods at Oikawa. “I’m Hanamaki. We’re dating.” He nudges Matsukawa beside him. 

“He knows. Everyone knows you two are dating.” Iwaizumi says. 

“Yeah, but I like to say it.” Hanamaki sets his phone down, pours some milk into his mug. 

“Love you, babe.” Matsukawa says. 

“Love you more.” 

“I take it you two had fun last night.” Matsukawa nods at Oikawa. 

The omega doesn’t know what he’s referring to until he looks down at himself. It’s hard to see from this angle, but one glimpse of the marks on his collarbones is all he needs to refresh his memory, of Iwaizumi’s apartment last night and hickeys born from pent-up anger. For spending most of his adult life covered in bruises and alpha scent, heat floods his cheeks surprisingly fast. 

“That didn’t happen here.” Iwaizumi blurts.

“We were at Iwa’s apartment!” Oikawa blurts. 

“We don’t care.” Matsukawa laughs. “Just so long as there isn’t any cum we have to clean off the sheets.”

“There isn't.”

“There isn’t!” 

Matsukawa and Hanamaki look at each other. They return to scrolling on their phones. 

As Iwaizumi makes him and Oikawa plates, the omega sits down at the table, fiddling with the hem of Iwaizumi’s t-shirt. He doesn’t try to cover the marks on his neck. He likes them, actually. Everyone knows they’re Iwaizumi’s marks. 

Breakfast tastes different than what Oikawa’s used to at home. It tastes better, with Iwaizumi’s hand on his knee. 

_ One day at a time.  _

Oikawa breathes in through his nose. He takes another bite. 

* * *

“I didn’t know you lived here.” 

“Well, of course you didn’t,” Tendou hums, sliding into the passenger seat. “I didn’t tell you my address before today. And unless you’re a stalker, there’s no reason you would have known it.” 

“I’m not a stalker.” Ushijima says.

“I didn’t think you were.” 

“You look beautiful.”

“Aw. You look beautiful, too, Wakatoshi-kun. Really nice.” Tendou smiles, his eyes curving upwards, and Ushijima can’t stop staring at his eyelashes. 

“Wakatoshi-kun?” 

The alpha can’t remember the last time someone called him that.

“Oh, is that alright? I assumed it would be, since you proposed already. I can call the alpha who wants to marry me by his first name, can’t I?”

“It’s fine. I like it.” Ushijima watches Tendou’s long fingers pull his seatbelt. “I like it when you call me that.” He focuses on Tendou’s fingernails. They look professionally done. “Can I- Should I call you Satori-kun, then?” 

Tendou’s throat bobs as he laughs. “You can call me whatever you like.” 

“I like calling you Tendou, actually.”

“Mmm. That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” Tendou says. “Maybe I’ll find out when I get to know you.” 

“Haven’t we already gotten to know each other?” 

“I don’t think so.” 

“And that’s why you wanted to do this.” Ushijima nods, turns the ignition. “Dinner followed by a movie. To get to know me.”

“Yes, yes.”

“I could take you somewhere more interesting. My family donates a lot of money to the art center downtown, or we could take my yacht out.”

“Oh, Wakatoshi-kun. This is exactly why I want to keep things simple.” The omega shakes his head, but his eyes are still curved. “If you’re serious about courting me, then we have to start with a traditional date. I don’t think you’ve been to this restaurant before, either, but you need to. Everyone needs to.” 

“I am serious about courting you.”

“You say that, but I believe there’s still a certain wedding scheduled for October 1st.” 

“I’m working out the details.” 

“I feel a bit weird going on a date with an engaged alpha.” 

“Oikawa is with his boyfriend right now, if that makes you feel less weird.”

“Marginally.” 

Ushijima eases the break as the light turns red. 

This is weird, like Tendou said. It’s weird, but it would be weirder without Tendou, even if the omega insisted they see a movie Ushijima hasn’t heard of, after eating dinner at a restaurant one of his servants laughed at when he mentioned it. 

“Why should everyone eat at this restaurant?” The alpha asks. 

“It’s the best Thai food on the planet.”

“Thai food?”

“Oh, yes.”

“On the planet?”

“Absolutely.”

His father isn’t happy about Ushijima wanting to call the wedding off. It’s for good reason, from a business perspective. He says Ushijima is being impulsive. 

It isn’t that Ushijima forgot about Oikawa. Feelings like those don’t disappear, requited or not, and the alpha in him rears aggressively when he’s reminded of Oikawa’s boyfriend. 

Maybe he’ll care about Oikawa for the rest of his life, assuming Oikawa is his first love. First loves don’t fade completely. Or so he’s been told. 

Tendou doesn’t think he loves Oikawa, though. 

He isn’t sure. 

He wishes he knew. Because if he knew he loved Oikawa, then he could tell if he loved Tendou. 

The omega likes to remind Ushijima that they’ve only spent time together during Tendou’s shifts, aside from their first kiss, a first kiss that felt like much more than a first kiss, and no one falls in love in fifteen minute periods at a chocolate shop. 

When Ushijima brought Oikawa gifts, the omega threw them out. 

“I have something for you.” 

“Oh?” Tendou’s scent changes, just barely. Sweeter. 

The alpha only notices because he pays special attention to scent, because he can’t always understand someone’s body language. Pheromones, on the other hand, are straight-forward. 

“In the glove compartment.” Ushijima nods. 

In the glow of late traffic lights, Tendou pulls it open. 

“Oh. Oh my god.” 

“What? Do you not like it?”

“No. No, no. Wakatoshi-kun, no, this is just… Too beautiful. They’re too beautiful for me.”

“That’s impossible. You must be too beautiful for them. The other way around.” 

Tendou pulls down the overhead mirror, lightly pushing the earrings in. 

“The color… It’s my favorite color.”

“Light purple. You said the color of night time if it were brighter.” 

He sees Tendou staring at him in the mirror.

“I did say that.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, of course I do. Thank you. Thank you, thank you.” 

When Ushijima brings Tendou gifts, he glows in the mirror while he wears them. 

They park outside the restaurant and Ushijima holds the door open for the omega, wondering if he should feel overdressed, seeing as Tendou’s in a simple skirt and a sleeveless turtleneck. The omega has his hair down around thin glasses again, like at the park. 

Ushijima’s wearing black slacks, a shade darker than the car, and a button-down. It’s business casual more than it is thai food casual. 

Then again, Tendou told him he looks nice. 

“What do you recommend?” Ushijima peers around the restaurant, feeling even more out of place inside. 

He hasn’t been to one of these places before. Without waiters. Dirty floors. Employees who look tired. The menu beside the counter looks old, or maybe it only looks old because it’s stained. 

“Why don’t we split something?” Tendou digs around his purse. “My treat.”

“Please, I’ll cover it.”

“I want to.”

“It’s nothing for me.” Ushijima meant that honestly, but Tendou doesn’t seem too happy he said it. The omega narrows his eyes at him, in a bad way, Ushijima thinks. “I mean-” 

Tendou steps up to the register before the alpha can finish. 

“Number fifteen please. We’re splitting it.” 

He pays with cash, keeping his eyes down as he slips his wallet back into his purse and returns to Ushijima’s side. 

“I mean that nothing costs much here.” Ushijima stares at Tendou’s forehead, earnest as he explains. “Money has never been a problem for me. Neither of us have to think about it. I just want to help.” 

“Oh, Wakatoshi-kun.” Tendou stares at the menu, even though he already ordered. “I know money isn’t a problem for you. That’s why I wanted to pay.”

“Why?”

“Money isn’t a problem for you, but it is for me.”

“That’s why I wanted to-”

“Meaning, it doesn’t mean anything to you, but it does for me.” 

Ushijima doesn’t stop staring at him. “I… Thank you.”

Like a kiss. 

Ushijima feels a familiar thrill in his chest. The way he felt when Tendou smiled at him through stainless glass, when Tendou kissed him in the park. He has the strange urge to propose again, here. 

When their food is ready, they sit at a table by the window. Ushijima picks up a tentative bite, furrowing his eyebrows at his chopsticks. 

Tendou laughs. “Don’t just stare at it. It’s not going to hurt you.”

“Right.” Ushijima blushes. “I’ve just… I haven’t tried this before.”

“You haven’t been to one of ‘these places’ before, either, have you.” Tendou does finger quotations. 

“I haven’t.”

“I thought so.” 

But he eats it, and then he eats another bite, and another, and it takes less than twenty seconds for Ushijima to decide this really must be the best Thai food on the planet. 

“I knew you would like it, but save some for me!” Tendou picks up his chopsticks, smiling as he scoops up a mouthful. 

“This is…” Ushijima chews, “Very good. I’m going to hire the chef who made this.” 

“I would definitely have to marry you if you did that.” 

“Really?”

“Actually, I think I’ll only marry you if you hire the chef.” 

“Then I will.” 

From the way Tendou laughs, stares at something about the alpha’s head, Ushijima isn’t sure the omega understood that he’s being serious. 

Tendou buys their tickets at the movie theater. He buys popcorn and candy, too. It’s a lot of food, Ushijima can’t help but notice, especially after they just had dinner, but Tendou insists, and he also insists on paying for it himself. 

When the movie starts, Tendou laughs at the funny parts and bites his lip at the sad parts, and Ushijima watches him more than the screen. 

“Did you like it?” Ushijima asks. 

They stop so Tendou can stuff empty containers into trash cans, and then the omega links their arms. 

“I really liked it. You?”

“I did.”

“Then what was the protagonist’s name?”

“Her name?”

“Tell me.” 

Ushijima blinks at cheesy carpet patterns, searches his mind to remember. He can’t.

“I don’t know.”

“You were barely watching!” Tendou accuses, squeezing the alpha’s arm. 

“I’m sorry. I was distracted.”

“By what?”

“You.”

Tendou brushes hair behind his ear. 

“Good answer.” 

“Do you want me to take you home now?”

“Actually,” Tendou straightens as they step outside. It’s chilly, and the omega gets closer. “Let’s cancel your wedding.” 

He lightly tugs Ushijima in the direction of the car. 

“What do you mean?”  
“You told me that you’re working out the details. To me, that sounds like you’re procrastinating.” 

“It’s complex.”

“I like you, Ushijima, but I don’t want to keep liking someone who’s engaged, so let’s cancel your wedding.”

They stop outside the alpha’s car. Ushijima can’t really pick up on the omega’s scent outside because there’s a breeze, and he can’t read Tendou’s expression, only that he let go of Ushijima’s arm. His skirt has a few more wrinkles than it did when Ushijima picked him up. 

“Do your parents know about me?” Tendou asks.

“My father does. But I don’t know if he took me seriously when I told him.” 

“What about Oikawa-san?”

“He doesn’t know.”

“Do you still want to marry me?”

Ushijima nods. “Yes.”

“And you still want to marry me even though we had our first date tonight?”

“Yes.” 

“Then let me see your phone.” 

Ushijima hands it to him. 

Tendou has a point, even if cancelling a wedding is more work than the omega seems to think. But this is Tendou, and he must already know that. 

“I really like you, Tendou.” Ushijima says. “To clarify.” 

Tendou, with one hand holding Ushijima’s phone, brings his other up to the alpha’s cheek. 

“I’m happy you do.” 

He presses the call button, but Ushijima can’t see who he’s dialing.

* * *

“Iwa-chan, I’m bored.” 

Oikawa drapes himself across the back of the couch, behind Iwaizumi. The alpha’s eyes feel like lead after staring at his laptop for so long. Hours, on this goddamn couch.

“What are you doing?” Oikawa adjusts to squint over Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

“You’re looking at apartments?” 

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi groans. 

He’s never had to do this stuff himself. Sakusa handles utilities and payments, all Iwaizumi has to do is hand over however much money the other alpha tells him at the beginning of each month. 

“What about your roommate?”

“Sakusa is sort of the reason I’m looking, actually. I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to face him after last night.” 

“I don’t understand why you’re so pressed about last night.” Oikawa rubs Iwaizumi’s shoulders. “I mean, it’s your apartment, too. What’s wrong with bringing your boyfriend to your own apartment?”

“I told you about this. Sakusa doesn’t want omegas inside.” 

“Okay, yeah, but that’s stupid to begin with. Don’t tell me your roommate is one of those douchebag alphas who thinks of omegas as second-class people, Iwa-chan.” 

“No, it’s not like that.” Iwaizumi clicks on a listing with a nice kitchen. “I’ve never asked him about it before, but I don’t want to pry. It hasn’t been a problem before anyway.”

“Until now.” 

Oikawa leans over, nips at Iwaizumi’s ear, and smiling the smile that makes Iwaizumi get hard based on how his voice sounds. 

“Yeah.” The alpha keeps scrolling down the listings but lifts a hand, holding his palm open until Oikawa takes it. “You’re a lot of trouble, Oikawa Tooru.”

“And you love me.”

“I love you.” 

Oikawa holds Iwaizumi’s palm with both hands, tracing shapes into his skin. He’s been touchy, even more touchy than usual, since Matsukawa and Hanamaki left the apartment a few hours ago. Another date, they claimed. Iwaizumi thinks they’re just trying to get him and Oikawa to fuck. 

The omega pouted, whined, threw a fit when Iwaizumi sat down on the couch with his laptop and refused to let Oikawa sit in his lap. He gave up after a couple minutes, though, settling for holding some part of Iwaizumi’s body at all times instead. 

The alpha’s been scenting him thoroughly all day so he can’t pick up on much of Oikawa’s natural scent, but there’s still a hint of need. Occasional panic when Iwaizumi left the room for a moment, or the omega wasn’t touching him. 

Being apart seemed to have a bigger impact on him than it did Iwaizumi. That only fuels the alpha’s instincts more, instincts that tell him not to let Oikawa out of his sight. Lounging around Matsukawa’s apartment all day, together, any responsibilities forgotten aside from the responsibility to periodically scent the omega, Iwaizumi feels content. He could do this for a long time. 

But now Oikawa is bored. Iwaizumi isn’t surprised. 

“Do you like your roommate? Sakusa-san?” Oikawa traces Iwaizumi’s knuckles. 

“Yeah, he’s great. We get along really well, or at least I think so. I wish we were closer, honestly.”

“You literally live together.”

“If you knew him, you’d understand.”

“What about his omega? Didn’t you tell me he has a boyfriend?”

“I haven’t met him, but yeah.”

“We should go on a double-date!”

“I’m sure Sakusa would love that.” Iwaizumi deadpans. 

“Seriously?”

“I’m being sarcastic. That sounds like a nightmare for him. Me, too, actually.” 

“Boring, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa tsks. “Double-dates are super fun.” 

“If it makes you happy, we can go on one.” 

“Really? You promise?”

“Sure. I promise.”

Oikawa abruptly assaults Iwaizumi’s cheeks and neck with kisses, soft purrs making his lips soft and Iwaizumi smile. The alpha shuts his laptop, pulling the omega onto the couch, into his lap. Since Oikawa woke up purring this morning, he can’t seem to stop. Not that Iwaizumi is complaining. Oikawa’s purrs might be his favorite thing. Ever. 

“So…” Oikawa says through his purrs. “If you’re looking for an apartment, does that mean we’re moving in together?” 

“I know we haven’t been dating that long. But I can’t really imagine not living with you.”

Oikawa’s eyes glow. “Neither can I.” 

“I don’t think you have a place to stay, either, right?”

“I’m never going back to my father’s house. And obviously I’m not marrying Ushijima, so I’m not moving in with him. I guess I could stay with Koushi, but-”

“You can live with me. I promise.” 

“You’re making a lot of promises tonight, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi draws circles into Oikawa’s thighs. Oikawa’s thighs, milky and exposed, because he’s only wearing panties and a t-shirt. He changed this morning, but that just means he switched from one of Iwaizumi’s t-shirts to another. 

Iwaizumi doesn’t want to tell him how fucking good the omega looks in his clothes. 

“Why don’t you pick out a movie?” The alpha nudges him. 

“Finally, something to do!” Oikawa smiles, sounding unnecessarily exasperated. 

He turns around in the alpha’s lap, sitting criss-crossed while he opens Netflix on the TV. Iwaizumi wraps his arms around Oikawa’s waist. Even if he can’t really see the screen, Iwaizumi’s happy to stare at Oikawa, those judgemental eyes reading title after title, summary after summary. It shouldn’t be as cute as it is. 

“Okay, I’ve decided. We’re watching this one.” 

“What’s it about?”

“A workaholic alpha who learns the meaning of love when he meets an omega at a coffee shop.”

Iwaizumi wrinkles his nose. “That sounds awful.” 

“It’s perfect.” Oikawa sinks further into the alpha’s lap. 

But only fifteen minutes into the movie, the omega isn’t paying attention anymore. At least Iwaizumi isn’t, because Oikawa starts readjusting in his lap. Readjusting is innocent enough, but this has to be on purpose. Dragging his ass right over Iwaizumi’s sweats. Right across his dick. 

Iwaizumi releases Oikawa’s waist only to bring his hands to the omega’s sides. He sinks fingertips into soft skin, kneading down to his hips. Oikawa’s waist, slender yet plush enough that it’s distinctly omega. Hips curved, built for childbirth. 

This position, this angle… Iwaizumi really shouldn’t be imagining the omega bouncing on his dick right now. Those hips arching as he cums inside him, gets him pregnant… 

Not at Matsukawa’s apartment. Not on his couch. He won’t let those two win whatever bet they made. 

Oikawa’s still watching the TV, seemingly invested in the shitty plot. If Iwaizumi was stupid, he might assume the omega genuinely isn’t trying to grind down on him. 

The alpha’s cock is hard now, pushing up against Oikawa’s ass. If he meant it innocently before, not anymore. Not as he grinds down harder, hands reaching back to find Iwaizumi’s thighs. Leaning back onto Iwaizumi’s thighs. 

Oikawa really doesn’t have any decency. 

He keeps watching the movie, though. Iwaizumi struggles to keep his hips from humping up into his ass. Instead, he just digs into Oikawa’s waist and coaxes him up a little more, down a little quicker. The omega doesn’t need much more than that to pick up his pace. 

Iwaizumi lets his head fall back onto the couch, a low groan spilling from his lips. 

“You know, Iwa-chan…” Oikawa leans back, his head beside Iwaizumi’s on the couch, rubbing his ass onto the alpha’s cock. “We haven’t had an opportunity like this before.”

“Like what?” Iwaizumi kisses the skin below Oikawa’s ear. 

“Alone.” Oikawa whispers, a moan interrupting the word as Iwaizumi thrusts up. “With a bed.”

“You’re right. We haven’t.”

_ “Iwa.” _

“What? What do you want, Tooru?”

He lifts Oikawa in his lap so that the omega is facing him, eyebrows trembling.  _ Shit,  _ Iwaizumi can’t figure out how Oikawa already looks so goddamn fucked. Iwaizumi cups his jaw, pops it open with a squeeze. The omega doesn’t resist, just letting his mouth fall open, just like this morning. He whines, a piercing whine, as Iwaizumi licks into him. 

Iwaizumi bits down on his bottom lip, and Oikawa yelps, bucks down onto the alpha’s cock. He drags a finger along the waistband of the omega’s panties. Oikawa would lift off Iwaizumi’s lap entirely if the alpha wasn’t holding him in place, the omega’s whole body strung explosively tight, just how fucking horny he is pouring out of his scent glands.

As the alpha’s slipping a finger into Oikawa’s slick-drenched ass, a vibration on the couch makes them both jolt. 

Oikawa’s cellphone. 

“God, sorry, just ignore it.” Oikawa nuzzles into Iwaizumi’s shoulder. 

Iwaizumi is more than happy to just ignore it, anxious to feel Oikawa's ass stretch around his fingers for their first time, until he sees who’s calling from the corner of his eye. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi. 

“You should pick up.” Iwaizumi pulls his hands away from the omega’s panties. 

“What? No, Iwa, I don’t wanna stop.” Oikawa whimpers, and then his eyes dart to his phone. His expression falls. “No, absolutely not. I never answer his calls. I’m not letting him ruin this.” 

It must be his heightened instincts. Iwaizumi almost wants to answer the phone himself. Tell Ushijima to stay away from his omega.

Answer the phone and bond Oikawa right here. 

Make Ushijima listen to Oikawa’s mewls as Iwaizumi fucks him. 

Whatever it is, he isn’t thinking straight.

“Answer it, Tooru.”

“No!” 

Oikawa grabs his phone, but fingers quivering from how tense his body is slip. He presses the green button, answers, and a growl explodes from Iwaizumi’s throat.

“Oikawa?”

“Fucking dammit, this isn’t really a good time, Ushijima!” 

“Oh. Well, I was just thinking we should cancel the wedding.” 

Iwaizumi freezes. Oikawa’s eyes widen. They stare at each other. 

“You… you were?” Oikawa blinks. 

“Yes.” Ushijima says. 

Iwaizumi wonders.... Maybe Ushijima isn’t as shitty as he thought he was. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things i like: omegas wearing their alpha’s t-shirts and the “poor boy takes rich boy to eat city food that rich boy has never tried before” trope 🥺💕  
> other things i like: teasing you all with iwaoi porn 😈
> 
> speaking of, i’m happy the sakuatsu smut was received better than i thought it would be last chapter !! thank you so so so much to those of you who commented and made me feel a million times better about it :,) it really does make me feel more confident about my writing :D
> 
> school sucks so fricking much i >:((( thank god (aka kita-sama) for break & the time to finish this update,, i wanted to post it before xmas but !!!! it didn’t work out that way 💔  
> over break, im going to start a bokuaka sugar daddy x drug lord au tho, so allow me to offer that as compensation for late update 😔💝
> 
> however you start 2021, i hope you make one of your goals for the year prioritizing yourself 🥺 over the holidays, eat however much you want !! rest as much as you can !! you absolutely deserve it. talk to you after the new year!! mwah! (ily 💕)


	15. Chapter 15

“What changed your mind?” 

Oikawa doesn’t pull his eyes from Iwaizumi’s as he slides off his lap, one hand groping the couch cushion, and the other holding his phone too tightly against his ear. Iwaizumi scrounges for the remote and mutes the TV.

“A friend.” Ushijima says.

“A friend? What friend? Semi? Who?”

“You don’t know this friend.”

Iwaizumi’s jaw is tight. Oikawa can see how tight his jaw is. Both of them listen, like if they don’t focus every fiber of their bodies on this phone call then the air might turn into glass and break. 

“Um, okay. Okay. But still. Why… Okay, why are you telling me now? And what exactly did this friend of yours say to change your mind?”

Oikawa thinks he hears whispering in the silence that follows. From the way Iwaizumi’s brow wrinkles, he must hear it, too. 

“I don’t want to marry you,” Ushijima finally says. “And I’m telling you now because… Because I’m procrastinating. I’ve  _ been _ procrastinating.”

“Procrastinating?”

“I want to marry someone else.” 

Iwaizumi’s scent practically explodes out of his glands, and Oikawa has to restrain himself from flinching down into the couch, stop the whine from bursting from his own mouth because of the alpha’s pheromones. His pupils are dilated black amidst green. 

The omega widens his eyes at him, not trusting himself to open his mouth yet. Iwaizumi is agitated about something. 

“He wants to marry someone else?” Iwaizumi seethes. 

His voice makes Oikawa anxious. 

So that’s what this is about. 

Oikawa sits up on the opposite side of the couch.

Possessive alpha shit. 

Iwaizumi looks like he’s about to murder Ushijima through the phone as his teeth elongate. “So he cheated on you.”

“I cheated on him, too, Hajime!” The omega muffles the microphone in his lap. “Get control of yourself.”

“Yeah, but-” 

“Alright, Waka-chan,” Oikawa interrupts him. “I couldn’t care less about that. All that matters is you don’t want to marry me. I don’t want to marry you, either. So what do we do now?”

Iwaizumi recoils.  _ “Waka-chan?”  _

“I already told my parents, and I cancelled the catering. All that’s left is the venue and guests.” Ushijima says. 

“And my father.”

“Won’t you tell him?”

“I think he’ll find out.”

Just talking about his father, just saying an endearing word like that about that man.  _ Father.  _ Oikawa feels sick.

“Okay. Then I’ll handle everything else.”

“You will?”

“Yes.”

Oikawa scoots to the edge of the couch. 

“Ushijima.”

“Yes?”

“We’re not getting married.”

“No. We’re not.”

“You mean that? You really mean all of this?”

“I do.”

“What’s your omega’s name?” Oikawa asks. 

Ushijima pauses, and then he says, “Tendou.”

“Tell Tendou-san I said thank you.”

“For what?”

“For doing something that I couldn’t.”

Another couple minutes, and the call ends.

Who would have guessed that the best phone call Oikawa’s ever gotten would be from Ushijima. Not Suga calling about a night out, or Iwaizumi asking how much longer he’ll be, but Ushijima Wakatoshi accidentally cockblocking him at 9 PM with the five sexiest words Oikawa has ever heard him say:  _ We should cancel the wedding.  _

If Ushijima had said that before, maybe Oikawa would’ve fallen in love with him. 

The TV behind them, still playing that movie Oikawa didn’t really intend on watching on mute, it flashes light and shapes on Iwaizumi’s face. His face, which still has that deadly look as the omega talked to his fiancé. Ex-fiancé.

“Are you sure he’s serious?” Iwaizumi asks. 

But Oikawa, instead of answering, launches himself across the couch at Iwaizumi, kissing him for the first time. The couch probably leaves a scratch on the wood floor with how it jolts, and Iwaizumi doesn’t kiss him back right away. 

Their first kiss, because Oikawa isn’t Oikawa Tooru anymore. Oikawa Tooru, omega, son of Oikawa-sama, future property of the Ushijima estate, family embarrassment and unnecessary expense. Kissing Iwaizumi, his hands in Iwaizumi’s hair, he’s Tooru. 

Tooru. 

Iwaizumi puts his hands on Oikawa’s cheeks, and tears join their first kiss. 

“Iwa,” Oikawa says against his lips. “Hajime.” His eyes are still closed. “I’m sure. I’m not marrying Ushijima. I’m never letting an alpha tell me what to do ever again.” 

Then he pulls back, cupping Iwaizumi’s face in his hands, running his thumbs along the alpha’s jawline. “And we don’t have to do anything, Hajime.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Oikawa nods. “I’m all yours.”

Iwaizumi abruptly kisses his neck, the sensitive place that meets his jaw. Oikawa can’t help a moan, can’t help how his ass grinds down onto Iwaizumi’s thigh at these pheromones. Territorial pheromones, ones that Oikawa has smelled before, ones that he adores. 

“You’ve been all mine from the start.” Iwaizumi says. 

“You know what I mean, Iwa,” Oikawa’s head falls back. 

The alpha sucks lightly at the skin about Oikawa’s scent glands, teasing, and the omega lets out a sharp whine.  _ Fuck,  _ if these panties weren’t already ruined before Ushijima called, they are now. 

“But…” Iwaizumi pulls away from Oikawa’s neck. “What about your father?”

Oikawa rolls his eyes, tugs impatiently at the alpha’s collar, because did Iwaizumi really have to interrupt the second heartbeat in the omega’s ass just to ask about his fucking father?

“Like I said, he’ll find out. It just won’t be from me. He’s not a part of my life anymore,

okay?”

Iwaizumi stares at Oikawa with one squinted eye. He looks like he’s overthinking, and he’s most definitely not overthinking about the omega’s body like he should be. Oikawa nips the cuff of his ear, rubs himself on the alpha’s thigh. 

“Okay.”

“There’s no wedding, Iwa.”

“No wedding.”

“You and me.”

“Okay. You and me.”

“You and me and I love you.”

Oikawa lets Iwaizumi kiss him. A kiss that feels like  _ I love you. _ Another one, sweet, the color of Iwaizumi’s eyes. And then finally, god,  _ finally,  _ the alpha bites a little on his bottom lip, lifts his muscled thigh up to meet the omega’s ass. 

His pheromones seep into Oikawa’s body, drugging him with loss of senses, loss of humanity as he succumbs to the omega in his blood and  _ knot, knot, knot.  _ Holding himself steady with Iwaizumi’s shoulders, with Iwaizumi’s hands on his waist, Oikawa rocks on the alpha’s thigh. He feels his own slick on Iwaziumi’s sweatpants through his panties. 

“That’s it,” Iwaizumi murmurs, coaxing the omega to grind harder, pick up his pace. 

Oikawa bites his lip, whimpers loudly.

“Come on, that’s it, Tooru.”

_ “Fuck,”  _ Oikawa moans with a roll forward. 

Iwaizumi laps at the omega’s scent glands, and Oikawa’s blind as he yelps. His body struggles to present, like it always does when he’s horny enough. His back arches, and his ass almost lifts off Iwaizumi’s thigh until the alpha roughly pulls him back, not letting the omega cease rubbing himself for one breath. 

Oikawa’s jaw drops open. Incessant whines pour out of his throat, like an omega in distress but so far from it. Iwaizumi bites Oikawa’s lip again, taking advantage of how the omega’s whole jaw is slack, pliable, the primal way some omegas react to an alpha’s pheromones. 

“I had a feeling you were like this,” Iwaizumi breathes next to his ear. “But I didn’t know it was this bad.” He laughs, low enough to make Oikawa shiver. “You really are the most desperate type of omega, aren’t you.”

Other than Suga and the handfuls of alphas Oikawa has slept with before, no one knows. No one knows how easily he falls into presentation. How limp his body becomes. How he produces more slick than the average omega. Because the average omega doesn’t present at the smell of an alpha’s pheromones, and the average omega doesn’t drop like a ragdoll at the sight of an alpha’s cock alone. 

“I’ve-I’ve always been like this,” Oikawa breathes. “I can’t help it.”

“I know you can’t.”

Oikawa might have heard the noise of shuffling in the other room if his heartbeat wasn’t so loud in his head, and if his orgasm wasn’t a few bounces on his alpha’s thigh away. It almost hurts as Iwaizumi abruptly pulls him off. 

“We’re home!” Matsukawa announces, knocking on the wall. 

“Hope we’re not interrupting anything.” Hanamaki adds.

“Damn it.” Iwaizumi groans.

“Iwa,” Oikawa’s near tears as he paws at his alpha’s shirt. “Iwa.”

“I know, I know.” 

“Iwa, please.”

Iwaizumi stands quickly, wiping any wet spots on the couch with the hem of his t-shirt, before scooping up the omega. 

“Hey, hope you had a good night!” He shouts back at Matsukawa. “We’re going to bed!” 

The omega wraps his legs tightly around Iwaizumi’s waist, trying to grind on the air and whimpering at the loss of touch. At least they get into the bedroom before they’re caught. 

Iwaizumi kicks the door shut behind him, sits down on the edge of the bed and positions Oikawa’s ass back on his thigh. 

He clasps a hand over the omega’s mouth as Oikawa begins rubbing himself immediately. 

“Quiet now.”

His first orgasm with Iwaizumi, hushed, a stranger’s apartment, and he cums harder than he ever has. 

Oikawa pants against Iwaizumi’s chest, nails digging into his skin and slick staining the alpha’s pants. He can barely keep his whines down, not with Iwaizumi shushing him and bouncing his thigh up. 

“Can we…” Oikawa starts to ask.

“No.”

“Iwa…”

“Not at my best friend’s apartment.”

Oikawa pouts. “Then when?” He sits up, post-orgasm clarity giving way to frustration. “Usually I fuck alphas and  _ then _ get to know them. Not fall in love, talk about moving in, and then hump his leg. I want you, Iwa.”

“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to bend you over and fuck you, Oikawa Tooru.” Iwaizumi growls. “I promise we will soon.”

“How soon?”

“Where’s my laptop?”

It takes Oikawa a second to realize what he means. 

“Iwa…”

“Let’s find an apartment. Right now.” 

“Right now?”

“We’ll move in by the end of the week.”

Oikawa kisses him with both hands on his neck. 

* * *

“Please?”

“Not now, Atsumu.”

“Why not?”

“I’m working.”

“Can’t we at least talk about it, Omi-kun?”

Sakusa glances up over the top of his glasses. His hands hover above his laptop keyboard. Atsumu leans on the counter across the room. Big eyes. 

“I know how you feel about it,” Atsumu says quickly. “I know how you’ve always felt about it. And you know that even though I hassle you, and I piss you off sometimes maybe, I don’t wanna pressure you.”

“You do piss me off sometimes.”

“All I’m saying is I’ve been here for a week. You wouldn’t even let me inside your apartment this time last month, but we’ve been living together for the last week now. That’s a really good step, Omi-Omi.”

“It’s only been five days. I don’t think five days means it’s time to move in together.” Sakusa focuses on his emails, hoping this conversation ends before it starts. 

“But that’s the thing! When is it ever the right time to move in together? Some people do it before they even know each other. But we know each other, Omi, and we’re about to have our eleven-month anniversary. I just want us to talk about it.”

“We are talking about it.”

_ “ _ I’m talking about it, and you’re resisting.”

Sakusa stops typing again. 

Atsumu comes over to the couch, but he doesn’t sit down.

“This stuff makes you uncomfortable. That’s exactly why I want to make this easier for you, alright? What can I do to make this easier for you, Omi?” 

He perches on a chair across from Sakusa. The alpha’s shirt is a little long on him, just covering his briefs. Sakusa’s shirt, which he’s slept in for the last five days, so it’s a little wrinkled, and it smells like the both of them. 

They had sex again last night. 

“Let me think about it alone first.” Sakusa says. 

“I can do that. Just let me know when you’re ready to talk.”

From the edge of his laptop screen, Sakusa watches Atsumu cross back to the counter, eating a bowl of Iwaizumi’s cereal while scrolling Twitter, probably. 

As it turns out, Atsumu suffers from omegan separation anxiety. That would explain why they haven’t been able to exist outside of the same room since they fucked. They’ve been together long enough that the alpha’s instincts are quick to react to his anxiety. Sakusa scents him every half hour, and he’s woken up by the omega whining in his sleep to scent him at night. 

Eleven months. 

Atsumu eating cereal at the counter is the farthest they’re capable of being right now. 

There’s no use being defensive, not in his head. Atsumu is right, to an extent. He’s right about Sakusa resisting, and there is a point to be made about other alpha-omega pairs who move in sooner rather than later. 

But Sakusa couldn’t be around his own omega of almost eleven months without scent patches until recently. He had a panic attack the first night with Iwaizumi, and living with Iwaizumi didn’t have implications. Living with an omega who he likes to fuck has implications. 

He spends twenty minutes responding to emails. Once those are finished, he looks over a paper that’s due next week, although he already poured over this paper, and it’s not like he had any mistakes to begin with. And then it’s not yet noon, but he’s scrolling a website about hypoallergenic cat breeds and thinking about wine, so he shuts his laptop. 

Atsumu follows him as Sakusa gathers laundry. As he disinfects the kitchen counters. As he sterilizes toothbrushes. He scents the omega every fifteen minutes rather than thirty, for his own stress. 

During lunch at the counter, Sakusa asks, “When do you work?”

“Tomorrow. I should be at the restaurant around five. Early, since I got all my shifts this week covered.” 

“Okay. We should be ready to leave at 4:30 then.”

“We?”

“I’m walking you there,” Sakusa assumes this is obvious. “I’ll bring a book and read at a table in the back until you’re finished. I’ll scent you when you’re on break.”

“Omi…”

“When does your shift end?”

“I want to go alone, Omi.”

“Why?”

“You can’t come with me to work every shift. I need to get used to it on my own.”

Judging from his pheromones, Atsumu is nervous about that. But he’s looking at the alpha, meaning he’s serious. 

“Okay. If that’s what you want.” 

“It is.”

“If we live together and it doesn’t work for whatever reason, your separation anxiety would be a nightmare if we moved out.” Sakusa says. “Wouldn’t it.”

Atsumu blinks once, twice. He sets his food down. Lightbulb, the way Atsumu understands. The way Sakusa doesn’t need to say anything for him to understand. 

“It would probably be pretty bad for a while. But I would deal with it, and the anxiety would pass eventually.”

“If we broke up, one of us would have to move out and look for a new roommate. That’s a lot of work.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s a lot of emotional work.” 

“Yeah.”

“So you agree.”

“Anyone would agree, Omi. Those are sort of the big risks of moving in together, so yeah. The point is that living together outweighs those risks.”

“And what are the benefits of moving in?”

“The last five days.” Atsumu softens. “Eating every meal together and sharing a bed. Just being together, Omi.”

“We can do that without moving in.”

“Yeah. But it’s not the same. Even if we eat every meal together, I don’t get to say the same address as yours when people ask where I live.”

Sakusa imagines that. 

It’s… Maybe it’s a good feeling. 

“It kind of sounds like you’re expecting us to break up.” Atsumu says. “Are you?”

“No.”

“Well, good. I don’t think we’re gonna break up anytime soon, either.”

“There are just a lot of things to think about.”

“And I’m thinking about the same things, Omi.”

The same building, their shoes side by side in front of the door. 

“You know how I feel about this, Atsumu.”

“I know.”

“I’m not opposed, there are just a lot of things to think about.”

“I know.”

“And if things change-”

“If things change, we’ll deal with it.”

“You don’t know if-”

“You don’t know, either.”

“We haven’t even started to talk about the financial aspect.”

“I have savings. And I’m working two jobs, and you’re working. I’ll work three if I have to.”

“I won’t let you overwork yourself.”

“Fine! But we’ll figure it out, just like we’ll figure everything else out. The keyword here is ‘we,’ as in you and I together.”

“I know that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“We can try it.” 

“We- We can try it?”

In his mind, this conversation was an argument more than a talk. It was drawn out, stressed and Sakusa assumed he would need more time. None of the hypotheticals ended with him agreeing in under five minutes. 

He must have changed a lot more in this past year than he thought. Or, Atsumu hasn’t changed, and he’s only realizing that now. Atsumu won’t change, if their clothes hang in the same closet. 

“Tentatively. We can try it. You can move in.”

“You’re serious?”

“I am.”

“Omi, you really mean it?”

Sakusa doesn’t want to repeat himself, but Atsumu looks like he’s about to jump across the table, his face glowing. 

“I mean it. You know how I feel about this, but I do.”

“I know, I know, Omi, but it’s gonna be amazing!” Atsumu’s pheromones seem to come out of nowhere. Sweet, tricking the alpha into thinking this is a good idea after all, a really good idea. The omega begins to purr, and he struggles to finish his words. “Holy shit, this is amazing, Omi-Omi! Waking up together, going to sleep together, eating breakfast together, doing laundry together, having sex every-”

“I get it,” Sakusa interrupts. 

“Just imagine, Omi-kun! We can have movie nights whenever we want and get takeout, and I can help with your work and-”

“I doubt that.”

“-And I’ll call you when I’m on the way home. Home, Omi,  _ home.” _

“On your way home...”

Atsumu finally assaults Sakusa with a hug and hands on his back and happy vibrations the alpha can feel echoing in his own body, and all he can think is how surprising it is that Atsumu waited this long. He waited this long. 

“When?” Atsumu purrs. “Tomorrow? This weekend?”

“I still have a roommate.”

“Oh, I need to tell Samu…”

“We’ll figure it out. That’s what you said. Let’s be patient.”

Atsumu holds the front of the alpha’s shirt, gently.

“I did say that.”

Lunch forgotten, Sakusa thinks about phone calls on the way home, and Atsumu purrs against his chest, until Sakusa’s work is more stressful than the omega is calming. But while he answers a couple new emails, the alpha browses some home websites. Soft blankets, weighted blankets, fuzzy blankets, comforters, quilts, throws. Especially designed for omegas. 

He’ll need to tell Iwaizumi.

As much as he would love to move in with Atsumu right away, the omega is jumping the gun with all of this, when Sakusa has to give Iwaizumi plenty of notice and find a new place and let the apartment manager know. 

And they might not be the best of friends, but he feels something like sadness leaving his roommate. 

His roommate, whose scent has been making Sakusa somewhat anxious with the omega around. Getting away from another alpha’s pheromones is certainly a benefit of moving in together. Iwaizumi, whose scent always seemed a bit stronger than other alpha’s, and a few hours later, as Sakusa wraps up and Atsumu grows restless on the couch, Sakusa’s nose twitches. 

There’s a knock on the door, followed by the sound of keys. 

“Omi?” Atsumu sits up abruptly. “Is that…”

Sakusa nods. “It’s just Iwaizumi. Go to my bedroom for now.”

Iwaizumi fiddles with his keys outside the door, stressed, because this is the first time he’s been to the apartment in a few days, ever since Sakusa caught him and Oikawa inside. God, how could he let himself be so careless? Maybe it’s a good thing he’s just here to let the other alpha know he’s moving out. 

“Why do I have to wait in the hallway?” Oikawa pouts. “I’ve already been inside.”

“Just- Just hold on. I’ll only be a few minutes, babe.” 

“Fine.”

The alpha steps inside, takes his shoes off and clears his throat. “Sakusa?”

“Hey.” Sakusa shuts his laptop. “Where have you been?”

“I was-” But Iwaizumi stutters, inhaling. Unmistakable cinnamon. Everywhere, with every breath, omega pheromones soaking the apartment. “I was at a friend’s house. I’ve had a rough couple weeks, I already told you that.”

“Mmm.”

“Well…”

They speak at the same time. “We need to talk.” 

Oikawa makes a face, peeking through the unlocked door and hearing that unfortunate jinx. Anytime Suga says they need to talk, it’s not a pretty conversation. He’s quiet, slipping shoes off, creeping into the kitchen while the alphas talk in the living room. 

Unlike what Iwaizumi thinks, this conversation will definitely not be “a minute or two,” and Oikawa remembers seeing a good bottle of wine the last time he was here. Besides, the smell of omega was obvious as soon as they stepped off the elevator. Whatever aversion Iwaizumi’s roommate used to have to omegas is gone. Thank god. 

He fills a glass a little less than halfway. Swirling it around a bit, he throws it back. He fills another and does the same. This wine is better than he thought. Another, but there’s a creak behind him as he fills his glass again. 

The waiter.

Oikawa whips around, and his hand flies over his mouth, because it’s the fucking  _ waiter.  _

They speak at the same time. “You!” 

“What are you doing here?” Oikawa crosses his arms. 

The other omega, fake blonde hair disheveled like he just woke up, wearing nothing but a t-shirt (clearly an alpha’s t-shirt) and booty shorts, he glares at Oikawa. He was scented recently, the alpha smell around him recognizable. Iwaizumi’s roommate, probably. 

“I’m at my boyfriend’s apartment.” The other omega says. “I’d ask you the same thing.”

“I’m at  _ my _ boyfriend’s apartment.”

“I remember you and your boyfriend at my restaurant.”

“I remember you serving my boyfriend and I at that restaurant.”

“You weren’t the nicest person I’ve served.”

“And you were the worst server I’ve ever had.”

“Why’s that?”

Oikawa fills his glass some more, taking more than a sip. “Aren’t servers supposed to be polite to their guests?”

“I was  _ too _ polite.”

“You were a little snippy, if you ask me.”

“It’s a good thing that no one’s asking you.”

“Tooru?”

“Atsumu?”

The omegas turn towards their alphas. Oikawa rolls his eyes as he clings to Iwaizumi’s side, glad he doesn’t have to speak with that Atsumu anymore. 

“You got into the wine?” Iwaizumi asks. “I told you to stay in the hallway.”

“I’m sure it’s fine. Your roommate seems to be alright with omegas now.” He gestures towards Atsumu. 

“Is this your boyfriend?” Iwaizumi asks Sakusa.

“Yeah. He’s the reason I’m moving out.”

“You’re moving out?” Oikawa asks. 

“Nice to meet you,” Iwaizumi says to Atsumu. “I’m Iwaizumi Hajime.” 

Atsumu nods. “Miya Atsumu.”

Oikawa finishes his glass and leaves Iwaizumi’s side to refill. This is much more chaotic than he imagined. 

“I feel like I recognize you, Miya-san.” Iwaizumi says.

The omegas share a look. They shift closer to their alphas. 

“You might remember me from work. I’m a server at a restaurant downtown.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right.”

Oikawa feels his cheeks growing red, his head getting warmer. Too much wine. 

He smiles at Atsumu. “So do you dress like that in public?” 

“Tooru.” 

Atsumu’s glare turns into a smile, too. “I wouldn’t be talking if I were you.”

Oikawa might also be wearing his alpha’s shirt, but it’s a button down, and he’s wearing it like a jacket over a turtleneck with decent pants. 

“I’m sure this turtleneck is more expensive than a year of your salary.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

_ “Tooru.” _

The omega lets out an exasperated whine and steps closer to Iwaizumi, but he must step wrong because the room looks a little bit like a heat wave, and he stumbles. Too much wine. 

“And do you often get drunk off ten minutes of wine?” Atsumu probes. 

Sakusa presses his hand into his eye. “I’ll make some food. When’s the last time you ate, Oikawa-san? You should be more responsible.” 

“He ate this morning.” Iwaizumi answers. 

“Make sure he doesn’t skip meals.” Sakusa tells him, and they look at one another for a weird moment that Oikawa assumes omegas wouldn’t be able to understand. 

As Iwaizumi helps Sakusa in the kitchen, Oikawa takes the bottle of wine into the living room. He plops onto the couch. Atsumu has the audacity to sit in the chair across from him.

Oikawa stares at him. “Can I help you?” 

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but you’re too close to me.”

“I was in the apartment first.”

“Then that makes me a guest, doesn’t it? So shouldn’t you be catering to my needs?”

“Why are you being such a bitch?”

“Same to you.”

Way too much goddamn wine.

They distract themselves with their phones. Except Oikawa isn’t distracted enough because Atsumu starts fidgeting after five minutes, tapping his feet and tugging at his fingers and shifting in his chair, the faintest of whimpers with each of Atsumu’s breaths. If this omega couldn’t be more annoying…

But Atsumu’s staring in the kitchen as Oikawa looks up to say something. His pheromones smell off. Something Harumi once told him comes to mind, and he hates how Atsumu suddenly doesn’t seem as annoying as he just did. Still annoying, but... 

“My mom had separation anxiety, too.” Oikawa says. 

Atsumu’s attention jolts from Sakusa to the omega. 

“You can tell?”

“Mhm. It’s obvious for other omegas I think.”

“Do you have it?”

“It’s mild, but it’s there. My mom had it bad like you, though.”

“Oh.”

Oikawa looks back down at his phone. 

“Had it? She doesn’t anymore?”

“She doesn’t have an alpha.”

“How did she deal with it when she did?”

Oikawa looks up again.

“I don’t know. It’s different for everyone. Just finding what works for you.”

“I’ve been trying that.”

“Breathing helps me. Taking deep breaths and counting to ten. And then I squeeze my hands together, and- well, this is sort of dumb- but I squeeze my hands and pretend it’s him. That helps me.”

Atsumu doesn’t respond. It’s not until Oikawa gets bored with this game on his phone that he looks up and realizes Atsumu has his eyes closed, hands together and chest expanding. Trying to calm down, just like Oikawa said. 

Atsumu opens his eyes. “That worked.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I think it did.”

“Good. That’s really good.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course!” 

Oikawa doesn’t mean to sound so enthusiastic, and both of them seem a little taken aback by his tone of voice. 

It’s awkward, until Atsumu says, “I have the same pants. They’re probably a cheaper pair, but they look the same.”

“Oh my god, I love these.”

“They match with everything. And I’m shit when it comes to fashion.”

“Oh, don’t say that. You look cute in that shirt.”

“It’s Omi’s.”

“You call him Omi? That’s fucking adorable.”

“So is Iwa-chan.” 

“Right?”

Oikawa bites his lip. He offers Atsumu the bottle of wine. 

“You don’t mind if we stay and eat, do you?” Iwaizumi asks Sakusa, passing him some oil. “I’m sorry about Oikawa. He has serious attitude problems.”

“It’s alright. I’m used to it with Atsumu. He’s the same.”

“I can see that.”

“Where are you two looking for apartments, by the way?” 

“Oh, not far. We’re staying in Tokyo. Probably just across the city.”

“Makes sense.”

“And you two are staying here?” Iwaizumi asks. 

“It’s the most practical thing.”

“Yeah, definitely.” 

Sakusa turns the stove heat down. He rubs his knuckles with a dish towel. 

“Iwaizumi.”

“Yeah?”

“You know I have a good sense of smell. Good senses all around.”

Iwaizumi leans against the counter. “Yeah. You told me about that. How you’re more sensitive than other alphas.”

“Right. And I can pick up on certain things better than others.”

“Yeah.”

“Like when heats are approaching. Things like that. And compatibility, to an extent.”

“Okay…”

“I think you and Oikawa-san are true mates.” Sakusa says. “You know that, too. Don’t you.”

Iwaizumi nods.

“I… I don’t know. I’ve thought about it. There’s some stuff that doesn’t make sense between us. I’ve thought that maybe it had something to do with that. With true mates.”

“Does he know?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“For me?”

“True mates are one in a million. You found yours.”

“Thanks, Sakusa.” Iwaizumi looks at him, really looks at him. “What about you and Miya-san?”

Sakusa shakes his head, moving a pot off the burner. “We’re not true mates.”

“I’m happy for you, too.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t consider you someone who got along with commitment, but you found Miya-san.”

“Well… We’ll see.”

“Hey. I think it’s more special when two people who aren’t true mates fall in love. You don’t know if it’ll work out, but you make each other want to try. That’s special.” 

Sakusa looks over at Iwaizumi. 

Just a glance. 

He starts scooping the rice into a bowl. 

“You may be right.”

Iwaizumi perks up at the sound of Oikawa groaning about something in the other room, leaving Sakusa to finish up. He has a bad feeling seeing both omegas on the couch together, phones in hand, a smile on Atsumu and a scowl on Oikawa. The pheromones in the room are friendly, though. Not acidic like they were before. 

“What are you guys doing?” Iwaizumi crosses his arms and rests against the doorframe.

Oikawa flops back against the couch, phone outstretched. “Tsumu-chan is cheating at 8-ball!” 

“No, Tooru-kun just sucks.” Atsumu drags his fingers smugly across his own screen. 

“Rematch!” Oikawa demands.

“Only because you’re that bad.”

It’s hard to believe these are the same omegas from fifteen minutes ago, but the near empty wine bottle between them explains it. Marginally. Their use of shitty nicknames also makes sense, but it’s weird. 

It’s better than the back and forth they were doing at least. 

Dinner sobers Oikawa up enough that his new friendship with Atsumu seems to be more than an alcohol-induced thing. The two of them keep talking about omega things, like heat cravings and experiences they had in elementary school, and wishing all skirts had pockets. 

For some reason, Iwaizumi feels more connected with Sakusa in their silence at dinner than he has over the last year. 

Atsumu looks over at Sakusa every couple minutes, requiring a nudge and a nod from the alpha before returning to his conversation with Oikawa. Seems like separation anxiety, if Iwaizumi had to guess, and it gives him the odd urge to move closer to Oikawa. To hold Oikawa around the waist and leave dinner early for some alone time. 

It’s hard enough dragging Oikawa out the door after they clean up, as he insists on getting Atsumu’s phone number and every social media username. He’s still tipsy, and Iwaizumi holds his hand tightly out of the apartment. 

Back to Matsukawa’s house for one more night. Then Sakusa gave them the go ahead to stay at their apartment, together, until they move out. Iwaizumi moving out, with Oikawa. 

Iwaizumi kisses Oikawa’s head every time they walk over a crack on the sidewalk. The omega preens, giggling and pushing back on Iwaizumi’s chest, not that he actually wants him to stop. By the time they get to Matsukawa’s apartment, Iwaizumi’s kissed every inch of his exposed skin, and Oikawa’s tucked snugly into the alpha’s arm. 

“Oikawa-san.”

A voice, a man standing outside the doors of the apartment building. He smiles at them.

Iwaizumi freezes. He holds Oikawa back with him. 

It’s almost midnight, but… He was waiting for them? Outside?

Iwaizumi’s hackles raise, just slightly, just at his voice alone. Another alpha. Given the circumstances, that’s a shitty sign.

The alpha steps forward, more into the light of the streetlamp where Iwaizumi looks him from top to bottom, black hair down to his hands in his pockets. He’s a stranger, to Iwaizumi. 

Oikawa bows his head forward out of anxiety, but he seems to recognize something about him. He looks up. 

“Who are you? I recognize your voice.”

“That’s probably because we spoke on the phone. Do you remember me, Oikawa-san?”

Oikawa thinks, and then, “Kuroo-san?”

“Who is he?” Iwaizumi asks, but Oikawa’s distracted.

The stranger grins. 

“Your father sent me.”

Oikawa whimpers, a sharp sound he didn’t mean to make, and Iwaizumi reacts instinctively by growling, snapping at the other alpha. Kuroo raises both hands, shushing him with calming pheromones. They don’t do much, outside. 

“Don’t worry. I’m not here to make your life hard, Oikawa-san. I’m only delivering a message. Your father doesn’t know where you are. He asked me to find out, that’s all.” 

“How the fuck am I supposed to know that?” Oikawa seethes.

“Listen,” Kuroo takes a step back, tilts his head down. Rare for alphas, but a sign that he doesn’t mean harm. Oikawa relaxes in Iwaizumi’s grip. “Your father is giving you an ultimatum. Come back and marry the next suitor he finds, or leave the family. No money, no support, no will and testament. I’ll tell him whatever you decide, but I need an answer.” 

Iwaizumi looks from Kuroo to the omega. He leans into Oikawa’s scent glands, trying to pick up on how he’s feeling. Anxiety. That’s all he can smell. But then a surge of anger nips his nose.

“I think you know the answer, Kuroo-san.” Oikawa says. “Fuck him. Fuck that man. Fuck Oikawa-sama, or whatever you call him. That’s not my father, and he’s not family.”

Kuroo nods.

“I thought as much.”

He nods at them both, and then hurries down the sidewalk. It’s too dark to see him clearly once he’s out of the streetlight. 

Iwaizumi rubs the omega’s shoulders. “Who the fuck was that?” 

“My family’s private investigator.” Oikawa said. “Or… I guess it’s not my family. The Oikawa family’s private investigator. It’s not my family anymore. Is it.”

“You’re mine.” 

“Is it?”

Iwaizumi brings Oikawa’s face to his shoulder, brings his hands around the omega’s body and lets him cry, even if there are no tears, and Oikawa doesn’t seem to be breathing much. 

“You’re mine, Tooru.”

“It’s over, Hajime.”

“What’s over?”

“All of it. No wedding.” Oikawa whispers. “Just you.”

“Just me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> atsumu with separation anxiety came to me in a vision and i went with it ❤️❤️
> 
> several different people recommended a sakuatsu double date & atsumu x oikawa becoming friends !!! you know who you are, and you inspired this chapter :) 
> 
> iwaoi smut next chapter !! ♡( ◡‿◡ ) long-awaited, and well-deserved for you horny babes ;) 
> 
> writing this chapter really made my urge to get a sakuatsu tattoo strong :,,) recently i’ve been looking into tattoo artists with manga panel experience because i’m getting a manga panel tattoo !!! lmk if there’s a specific one you recommend, okay? so far, i’m considering kagehina, atsumu timeskip, hirugami, or a kita panel tattoo :) 
> 
> i started a bokuaka fic !! i would really appreciate if you checked it out 🥺🥺💖💖
> 
> a simple reminder today: you are not your mistakes. you deserve to eat and drink and rest. you deserve to look up at the stars tonight, tomorrow, 20 years from now and notice if that planet looks different than it did. you deserve the feeling of sand between your toes, when the ocean is grey-green rather than blue. and as always, i love you


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw // blood [from claiming bites]

“They’re here!” Oikawa yells, shaking the match in his hand until the flame dies. “They’re here, Hajime! Do you look presentable?” He scans the living room, hurries into the kitchen to make sure there’s enough cheese and wine. “Actually, I don’t care! Take your time, babe!”

Iwaizumi shouts something indistinguishable from the back room. He should’ve showered earlier. Oikawa told him that they were coming at four o’clock sharp, it’s not like this is a surprise. And now it’s four o’clock, but the alpha isn’t finished getting dressed. 

Oikawa presses fingertips into his temples.

Candles. Wine. Crackers. 

The whole apartment smells like midnight jasmine. Or that’s what it’s supposed to smell like, according to the label on the candles. 

Oikawa pulls the door open. 

Suga is hugging him before there are words to say. 

“Koushi!” Oikawa yelps, blinking, realizing he should wrap his arms around his best friend, too. “Koushi.”

“Tooru,” Suga murmurs. 

“It’s been…”

“A month.”

“A month.” Oikawa repeats. 

Suga finally releases him, but he grips Oikawa’s hands tightly in his. He looks intently at Oikawa, into his eyes and cheeks and nose, like he’s looking for something, or checking for blood. The omega brings his hands to Oikawa’s face. It reminds him of Harumi, all of this. 

“Oikawa Tooru,” Suga starts. Oikawa knows where this is going. “A month? Really? I don’t think I’ve gone a month without seeing you since before I knew you.”

“Oh, stop it.” Oikawa says. “I missed you, too. Bitch.”

“Whore.”

“Slut.”

“Skank.”

“Cock-”

“Uh, Oikawa, it’s nice to see you again,” Daichi clears his throat. “Koushi’s been worried about you. I’m sure you knew that.”

“I know, I know,” Oikawa wraps his arm around Suga’s shoulder, pulling him close. “I should’ve found a way to contact you. But I didn’t have a phone until last weekend, and it’s been hectic moving in and everything.”

“I’m sure you could’ve contacted me if you tried hard enough,” Suga rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “I won’t forgive you for this.”

“I don’t forgive you, either.”

“For what?”

“For letting my father drag me away at the engagement party!” Oikawa flicks Suga’s arm, lightly. 

“And what in the world was I supposed to do?” Suga pinches him back, softly. “Fight him off? He’s an alpha! And a hundred years older than me! And we were surrounded by people!”

“Exactly! If he’s a hundred years older than you, then it should’ve been easy!” Oikawa huffs. “Or you could’ve sicked Daichi on him.”

Daichi’s eyes widen. He shifts, crossing his arms uncomfortably. 

“Hmm…” Suga looks over at the alpha. “Maybe. He could’ve crushed your father’s head with those thighs of his.”

Oikawa peers at Daichi, up and down his body a couple times. “That’s true.”

“Well, I don’t… Uh, maybe-” Daichi clears his throat again. “Maybe this isn’t an appropriate conversation-”

“Hey!” Iwaizumi pokes his head through the doorway behind them. “Sorry, I was just getting changed.” He smiles at Suga, gives Daichi a nod. 

When his eyes land on Oikawa, that smile, dark irises, the omega’s throat constricts. 

In love. 

“We haven’t properly met before, unless you include that night at the restaurant,” Daichi steps towards Iwaizumi. “Which, by the way, I’m so sorry about. My fiancé-”

Iwaizumi holds up a hand, grinning. “Don’t worry about it. You don’t need to explain anything. Sugawara-san is best friends with Tooru. That’s the only explanation needed.”

They all laugh. The apartment smells like midnight jasmine. 

“So this is it?” Suga pulls Oikawa into the apartment, seeing as they’ve just been congregated around the door this whole time. “How much per month?”

“¥86,000.”

Suga gasps a little, raising his eyebrows as he looks around. “Really? That’s all?” 

“I know!” Oikawa admires his own decorating. 

“It’s not that little,” Iwaizumi coughs behind them, but the omegas aren’t listening. 

Oikawa plops on the couch, patting the space next to him for Suga. A heather grey couch that matches the blue in the rug, the navy pillows, the white and teal vase on the table. All picked out by Oikawa, all paid for by Iwaizumi. 

“It’s adorable.” Suga rubs Oikawa’s knee. “I love it. I’m happy for you. Both of you.”

“I love it, too.”

The alphas sit down across from them. Iwaizumi, sitting across from Oikawa. Daichi, sitting across from Suga. If Oikawa were paying attention, he might pick up on the tension in the room. He notices it some, with his nose twitching and the occasional chill that runs over his scent glands. But it’s just the tension that seeps out when an alpha is in the room with another alpha’s omega. Oikawa is used to this feeling, at parties mainly. 

It reminds Oikawa why he’s happy to not be an alpha. 

“I heard about Ushijima-san cancelling the wedding. I can’t believe it.”

“Me, neither.” 

“And your father… I heard about everything. Harumi told me.”

“Harumi.”

“So,” Suga says. “When are you two getting married?”

With that, the tension worsens. 

“We haven’t talked about it.” Oikawa glances at Iwaizumi, back to Suga. 

“But you’re planning on it.”

“Of course we are. We just haven't talked about it yet. Stop being nosy.”

“It’s my job to be nosy sometimes.” Suga crosses his legs. “Allegedly, you’re my best friend.”

“Don’t say allegedly!”

“What kind of best friend ghosts me for a month?” 

“Blame my father.”

“What’s the situation with him, by the way?” Suga asks. “Does he know you moved in with Iwa-chan?”

“Iwa-chan?” Daichi and Iwaizumi say simultaneously. 

“He knows everything, so I assume so.” Oikawa says. “He hasn’t reached out to me directly since- since I ran away. I haven’t seen Harumi, either.”

“Babe...”

“It’s fine. It’s okay. I’m fine.” Oikawa brushes Suga’s hand away, not wanting to cry when he’s with the people he loves, finally. He’s been managing well, not crying. “I have a new life now. I’m okay with that. I don’t want anything to do with my father.” He sits up. “I have Hajime. And I have you, and Daichi.”

“What about Harumi?”

Oikawa shakes his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to see her. Or if she wants to see me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s probably more worried about you than anyone. We’ll figure something out, Tooru, okay?”

Oikawa nods. It’s easier for Suga to say. 

Iwaizumi gets up to grab a bottle of wine from the kitchen, bringing some glasses to the coffee table between them. He pours for them all, filling the omegas’ glasses higher than his and Daichi’s, and Oikawa catches Iwaizumi looking at him. 

They’ll need to have a conversation, later. 

“When did you guys move in?” Daichi asks. 

“A week ago,” Iwaizumi says.

“Five days ago,” Oikawa corrects him. 

The omega sips his wine, swishes it around his tongue. 

“It’s a nice place,” Daichi looks around. “Not much longer until Koushi and I move in together.”

“When’s that gonna be? Are you moving into an apartment?” Iwaizumi asks.

Suga snorts against his glass. Oikawa elbows him. 

“We’re staying on the Sugawara estate.” Daichi tells him.

_ “Our  _ kind of omegas aren’t supposed to leave family property,” Suga explains, gesturing to himself and Oikawa. “Typically, the omegas move into the alpha’s family home, but Dai is from a modest background, so we’re staying in a guest house on my family’s property. Tooru, for example, would have been moving onto the Ushijima estate.”

“Oh.” Iwaizumi says.

Oikawa hopes he’s the only one who can smell the flare in Iwaizumi’s pheromones. Pissed, like he always is when someone mentions Ushijima. The omega suppresses the urge to roll his eyes at him, focusing on wine instead. 

The conversation meanders, breaks in two, as Iwaizumi and Daichi start talking about work and washing cars and rich people, and Oikawa fills Suga in on everything he’s missed over the last month. 

It’s a lot. So much that the alphas move into the kitchen to snack on crackers, leaving the omegas chatting in the living room.

They arrived at four o’clock. At eight o’clock, Oikawa still isn’t finished telling Suga about his new friend, Miya Atsumu. At nine-thirty, the omegas are giggling on the couch, tipsy, with curled toes and stories about purring between them. 

In his laughter, Oikawa looks at Suga through crinkled eyes. Suga’s eyes are closed, pink on the edges as he laughs, and his beauty mark is smiling. 

He remembers that time they drew a matching beauty mark on Oikawa’s chin with sharpie. It didn’t come off for weeks. Harumi almost killed them. That was… That was about nine years ago, when they were first-years in high school. 

Oikawa leans into Suga’s shoulder. Suga’s laughter fades as he wraps tight arms around him. He rests his forehead on the top of Oikawa’s head. 

“Hey,” He murmurs.

Oikawa smiles against him. “Hey.”

“Remember that time with the sharpie?”

“I was just thinking about that.”

“You looked cute.”

“That was our first year of high school.”

“That long?”

“Yeah. I know.”

Oikawa slips out from beneath Suga’s chin. Both of them lean against the couch, knees raised to their chests, hands wrapped around their legs or running along the cushion fabric. 

“But are you and Iwa okay?” Suga asks. “Really?”

“Yes.” Oikawa doesn’t have to think to answer. “Yes. I don’t know how I’m dealing with everything related to my father, and the wedding being cancelled and all that, but I think it’s just because I have him. It’s like… It’s like everything could go wrong and I wouldn’t care, because of Hajime.”

“You’re just in love, babe,” Suga smiles. 

“I know! I know. But really, Koushi, I haven’t been happier in my whole life than I have been the last week. I missed you, obviously that part sucked, but I just mean being free, I guess. From my father, and having my own place. And Hajime. Mainly Hajime.” 

“Yeah. I know what you mean.”

Oikawa rests his head on his knees, feeling warmth seep into his body from Suga’s eyes looking back at him. 

The alphas practically have to drag the omegas out of the living room when Daichi decides they should get going. 

Oikawa hangs onto Suga’s arm, both of them begging for just fifteen more minutes, until Iwaizumi releases those goddamn pheromones, the ones that should be illegal. Oikawa’s eyelids feel hot, his limbs feel like wet concrete as he lets Suga go, falls backwards into Iwaizumi’s waiting arms. 

The pheromones have a similar effect on Suga, but not nearly as much as they do on Oikawa. He has to hold Daichi’s arm, yawning, and they leave with nods. Vaguely, Oikawa wonders if it’s a true mate thing. 

The door shuts. 

“Mmm, stop,” Oikawa turns into the alpha’s hold, slumping into his chest. “Stop it. Iwa.” His voice is slurred. 

“Stop what?” Iwaizumi teases. 

“Don’t play dumb.” Oikawa playfully punches his chest, but it’s a tap more than anything. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

But after Iwaizumi picks up the omega bridal style, deposits him on the couch which weirdly feels softer than it did just a few minutes ago, the pheromones fade. 

“There we go,” Iwaizumi sighs. 

Oikawa yawns and stretches out, energy returning to his body. 

He peeks over the top of the couch. Iwaizumi is back in the kitchen washing dishes. 

The only light in the living room comes from a small lamp and what spills from the kitchen. Oikawa sits up, looking at the time beneath the TV stand. They don’t have a TV yet. 

It’s around ten. 

He looks back into the kitchen. 

Iwaizumi sets the last dish in the drying rack. He pulls the cloth from his shoulder and drapes it over the sink, starting to put away containers, crackers and wine. 

The only sound is Iwaizumi in the kitchen, and the rustle of the couch every time Oikawa moves. 

It’s all so…

“Hajime.”

“Yeah?”

“It already feels like we’re married.”

Iwaizumi finishes putting things away. He flips off the kitchen lights except for the one above the sink, wipes his palms on his thighs as he joins the omega in the living room. 

Oikawa scoots over to give him room on the couch, but Iwaizumi lets out a quiet noise, a low noise, and the omega knows to get close. He buries his nose into Iwaizumi’s neck, drapes a thigh over Iwaizumi’s lap. 

“It already feels like we’re married?” Iwaizumi asks.  
“It’s all so domestic.” The omega plants a soft kiss on Iwaizumi’s jawline. “Hosting people at our apartment. Our own apartment. You doing the dishes. Knowing we’re about to brush our teeth and get in the same bed. It’s like married life.”

Iwaizumi nods, thinking as he brushes hair out of Oikawa’s face.

“I see your point.”

“You don’t agree with me?” 

“No, no, it’s not that. This does feel domestic.”

“Then what is it?”

“I’m just thinking about what Sugawara-san was saying.”

“God, just call him Suga.”

“Suga.” Iwaizumi says. “He asked when our wedding is.”

“And?”

“And, you said we’re planning it, but we haven’t even talked about it. We haven’t talked about marriage at all.”

“I just meant… I mean, just because we haven’t talked about it doesn’t mean we’re not  _ going  _ to. That’s all I meant when I was talking to Koushi.”

“Why do you assume that?”

“Assume what?”

“I get that marriage is more of a rite of passage than anything else for you, based on your families and everything,” Iwaizumi doesn’t look particularly upset, but there’s a grimace somewhere on his face, and he’s not looking at Oikawa. “Actually it’s more like a business transaction for you. But it’s different for the rest of us. It’s more special than how you and Suga feel about it.”

“Wait,” Oikawa sits up, out of Iwaizumi’s lap. “You’re mad that I’m not talking about marriage like it’s special enough?”

“I’m not mad.”

“But that’s what you mean?”

“I guess.”

“Hajime.”

Iwaizumi gives him a look, and Oikawa squishes the alpha’s cheeks in his hands. But Iwaizumi’s cheeks don’t really squish, not with his jaw as sharp as it is. He looks cute nonetheless. Oikawa is sure this is the cutest Iwaizumi has ever looked. 

“What?” Iwaizumi tries to say. He tries to bat Oikawa’s hand away, too, but the omega just tightens his grip, climbs on top of the alpha’s lap. “Tooru?”

“Hajime. That is the cutest thing you have ever said.”

Iwaizumi looks near death. 

“What?”

“You’re mad that I’m not talking about marriage like it’s special enough. You’re too precious.”

“I- I didn’t- Shut-” 

He fumbles with words, but Oikawa just kisses him on pouty lips. 

“You’re right.” The omega says. “You’re right about it being like a business transaction for Koushi and I. But that’s why I’m so excited for us to get married, because it would be our decision, and absolutely no one can do anything about it.” Oikawa rubs his hands into Iwaizumi’s cheeks. Iwaizumi who just blinks, stunned, beneath him. 

“Unless... you don’t want to get married.” Oikawa falters. 

“Tooru.”

“Hm?”

“Marry me.”

This time, it’s Iwaizumi who pulls Oikawa down to kiss him. He threads strong fingers through the omega’s hair, feathers and fragments of silk, abruptly enough that Oikawa drops his hands to the front of Iwaizumi’s shirt. A ripple of a purr, or a moan, spills out of the omega’s lips. 

Iwaizumi grins into the noise. 

“Absolutely not.” Oikawa breathes.

“Why not?”

“You have to propose properly for me to say yes.”

“And how do I do that?”

“Take me somewhere nice. The weather has to be good. At night, where you can see the stars, and there are some people around, but it’s not crowded.”

“You’ve thought about this a lot.”

“Then you get on one knee.” 

“Get on one knee?”

The back of Oikawa’s neck feels cold. 

“And pull out the ring.”

“Like this?”

Oikawa feels air rush through his bangs, against the backs of his thighs as he falls backwards, supported only by Iwaizumi’s arms around his lower back. And then he’s on the floor, out of breath on the floor in front of Iwaizumi. 

As Iwaizumi lets go of him, Oikawa nearly falls over. He catches himself on his toes, gripping the edge of the couch with his fingers. 

On his knees. 

This isn’t the first time he’s been on his knees in front of Iwaizumi. This isn’t even the first time he’s been on his knees in front of Iwaizumi in an apartment, alone. 

“Sorry, that was a little rough. Are you alright?” Iwaizumi asks quietly.

It’s all Oikawa can do just to nod. 

This is their apartment. It’s around ten, and they’re alone, in their own apartment. 

They’ve been alone in their apartment for five days and nights, but their new mattress didn’t arrive until yesterday afternoon, when they fell asleep early because moving is too exhausting for Oikawa. 

Oikawa put new sheets on their new mattress this morning. 

“Hajime.”

“Do you remember what I said?” Iwaizumi leans forward, rests his elbows on his thighs. “About waiting until we moved into our own place?”

Oikawa nods again. 

“Are you tired?” 

“No.” Oikawa blurts. 

He can feel his jaw quivering. His fingers intertwine and fall apart in his lap. This anticipation is on the verge of breaking him. 

And he’s never felt like this about an alpha. All of those alphas he’s fucked after a drink, in cars and bathrooms and bedrooms he forgets, none of it felt like this. 

“Do you want to?” Iwaizumi watches Oikawa with concern in his eyes. “Only if you want to. And we can stop at any point, no questions asked.” He reaches down, squeezing one of the omega’s hands. “It’s completely up to you, Tooru.” Even in the dark, the green in his eyes shows itself. “I don’t want to be like those other alphas you’ve hooked up with. I want you to feel good.”

This is the farthest thing from foreplay, but Oikawa feels warmth surge beneath his waistband. He bites down on his lip to stop the whine that wants to come out. 

They never felt like this. 

“Hajime. You couldn’t be like those alphas if you tried.” He looks down at Iwaizumi’s hand, runs soft fingertips over the alpha’s fingers. “None of them cared about me.”

Oikawa doesn’t miss the small burst of irritation in the alpha's pheromones. He ignores it, but it prompts a little bit of slick to trickle down his leg. These panties are soaked. 

He wonders if Iwaizumi has picked up on that yet. 

“I’ll make it up to you.” Iwaizumi says. “All those alphas who fucked you the wrong way. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Hajime...” 

Iwaizumi lifts him up by his arms, high on his knees and slides his arms down Oikawa’s torso, gentle pressure around his waist. 

And then the pheromones hit him, and Oikawa can’t feel his limbs. 

_ “Alpha.” _

In Oikawa’s head, he winces, because his voice is too loud and too quiet all at once. But it doesn’t sound like his voice, either. A part of him is aware that it was his own voice that just cried out. Some part of him is struggling to hold onto the blur in his eyes, the feeling around his waist that feels like the only thing keeping his body upright. 

He opens his eyes eventually, or the glaze in his eyes must clear enough for him to see because his eyes were open the whole time. 

His own voice again echoes in the living room, whines tearing out of his mouth, his open mouth. At some point, his jaw must have fallen open. 

He tries to support his own weight, sit up and stop his keening, but his body acts on its own accord in response to alpha pheromones.

_ “Alpha, Hajime, I-”  _

If Iwaizumi hadn’t said what he did, Oikawa wouldn’t have been able to tell any difference between this smell and those other alphas. To his senses, the alphas want the same thing. And if anything, Iwaizumi’s scent is more aggressive than the rest. 

“Sorry,” Iwaizumi says. “I’ve sort of held back before with my scent. I didn’t want to overwhelm you, but I guess that didn’t work. Are you okay?”

Oikawa tries to form words to respond. All he can do is mewl. 

Iwaizumi distracts himself from those sounds with the omega’s scent glands, careful, as he swipes his tongue over the swollen red spot at the base of Oikawa’s neck. He tightens his grip around Oikawa’s hips, just in time for the omega to yelp at the feeling. 

There’s never an excuse for an alpha to use an omega like alphas have used Oikawa before, instincts aside. Iwaizumi knows that. He believes that more than most alphas out there, but… 

He must be a shitty person for thinking it, but he can see why Oikawa has always been so goddamn hard to resist. 

He thought he lost Oikawa for a minute, just a moment ago when he released his pheromones fully and the omega looked like he might have blacked out. His eyes glazed over like that, neck tilting to expose his scent glands even when he’s unresponsive. And regardless of his own scent, Oikawa’s pheromones are practically begging the alpha to mount him. 

It’s obscene _ , fucking obscene,  _ the scent pouring off the omega. 

Dating Oikawa has always required self-control beyond anything else Iwaizumi has dealt with, but this is even worse. It’s even better. 

Iwaizumi does his best to breathe through his mouth as he nips at the omega’s glands. But he can almost taste the pheromones, and his hand moves on its own, latching onto Oikawa’s slack jaw. Iwaizumi kisses up his neck, leaves red marks as the omega comes down from exposure to the alpha’s scent. 

He can’t help but drink in the sight. Only two seconds. Maybe three. He spoils himself, gazing at the omega beneath him, at Oikawa’s tongue lolling out of his pliable mouth like that. He has to hold down the omega’s hips to keep him from falling into presentation on the floor. 

That’s another thing entirely. 

Iwaizumi’s never heard of an omega who drops into presentation at the slightest touch. In terms of evolution, it doesn’t make sense, since omegas are typically picky about who they let mount them, but Oikawa’s body doesn’t seem to care. Iwaizumi can tell, in the omega’s pheromones, how fertile he is, too. Maybe that’s why. 

Oikawa’s whimpering gets worse, louder the longer Iwaizumi assaults his body with his eyes. The alpha shushes him with a low growl, but the omega’s whines don’t stop entirely, just fade to the back of this open throat. 

The alpha licks into his mouth. Oikawa mewls again, his eyebrows slanting and hands finally regaining some independence as he latches onto Iwaizumi’s shoulders. 

Oikawa squirms on the floor, sliding his thighs together. The alpha lets him, for now. But he doesn’t want Oikawa to have to grind on himself to feel something.

Iwaizumi meant what he said. He’ll make it up to Oikawa. 

And he starts by sliding his tongue out of the omega’s mouth, closing their lips together. With his free hand, he coaxes the omega’s jaw to shut. 

Oikawa sighs into his mouth. They kiss each other, the same way they’ve always kissed each other. The omega feels some of his composure coming back, even if he still feels tipsy on sex, just in the comfort of feeling Hajime’s kiss on his lips. 

Frantic, horny, rutting alphas pinning the omega down somewhere he doesn’t recognize, the chance of an orgasm and knots that hurts more than anything. That’s what Oikawa is used to. Not tender kisses and warm hands under his chin. Not patience. 

He kisses Iwaizumi back, running his tongue along Iwaizumi’s bottom lip, but not enough to challenge the alpha’s place. Iwaizumi's hands wander down his body, down his shirt, to the sensitive skin along his arms and spine. He traces shapes, stars and and swirling lines, all along the omega’s skin, until Oikawa is arching, mewling into the kiss. 

“That-” Oikawa breaks the kiss, falls into Iwaizumi’s chest. “That feels… Weird. Good. Really good.” He bites his lip, another shiver wracking his body. “It tickles.” He giggles and tugs on Iwaizumi’s shirt.

“Yeah?”

“Y-Yeah.”

Iwaizumi pulls his hands out of the omega’s shirt to lift it over Oikawa’s head. Oikawa gasps, jerks as Iwaizumi latches onto his glands again and continues tracing those delicate places on the omega’s body. 

Oikawa could kneel like this for hours, shivering at Iwaizumi’s touch. But it’s not enough, and his pheromones must give that away because Iwaizumi releases him after a few moments. 

“Hajime.”

“I know, Tooru.” 

“Hajime,” Oikawa whimpers, digs into Iwaizumi’s torso. 

“Be good and hold on.” 

The alpha starts to lift Oikawa up with him until he notices the omega fixated on the painful tent in his pants. He smells slick sweetening the air. His self-control nearly slips as a bark jumps out of his throat. The omega mewls in response, bowing but angling his head so his mouth is just above Iwaizumi’s crotch. 

In that position, Oikawa’s ass rises off the ground with his curved back. His skirt slips forward, and the alpha catches a glimpse of slick trailing his thigh, gleaming in the lamplight, black panties soaked through to his ass. 

“What?” Iwaizumi drags his attention back to Oikawa’s puppy eyes. “What do you want, Tooru? Hm?”

Oikawa whimpers, shifting his thighs again. His hands start to trail down, back to his own skirt, but Iwaizumi bares elongated teeth and yanks the omega’s arms forward. 

“Tell me, Tooru.” 

“Let me suck you off,” Oikawa begs, hungry. 

Iwaizumi can’t help himself. 

He kisses Oikawa hard, holding the back of the omega’s neck steady and working his own pants off with his other hand. The way Oikawa yips as Iwaizumi nips his bottom lip, it’s like the omega could cum without being touched. 

WIth the alpha’s pants off, Oikawa sits back obediently on his knees. He’s attentive as Iwaizumi stands up and hooks his thumbs in his briefs. Iwaizumi appreciates that for a moment, how Oikawa is staring like that, the omega’s tongue teasing his lips like it’s desperate to hang out of his mouth. 

He slips his briefs off, throwing them somewhere on the floor. 

The shrill whine that Oikawa releases nearly tips Iwaizumi over the edge. He bares his teeth, a primal response he didn’t intend, and jerks himself a few times looking down at the frothing omega. 

_ “Hajime.” _

“Come here, Tooru.”

“Hajime...” Oikawa struggles to speak as his throat rumbles with mewl after mewl. His body throws itself forward with his ass raised and scent glands ready to be bitten. He can’t seem to get out the words he’s so desperate to find. 

Iwaizumi laughs under his breath. “Yeah?” 

Oikawa isn’t the first omega to react like this. 

“Come on, use your words, Tooru.” 

“I’ve-” the omega looks up at him, his eyes giving away how far away he is. It gleams like tears. “I’ve never been with someone so fucking  _ big. _ ” 

Oikawa isn’t the first omega to say that. 

Iwaizumi keeps pumping himself, as if he wasn’t already fully hard, and he snaps his jaw on accident, instinctively, with his pride swelling. The omega’s head drops further at that, whimpering like it’s the only sound his vocal chords are capable of producing. 

The alpha collects the remnants of his self-control as he bends down and slips his hands beneath Oikawa’s underarms. 

“That’s it,” he grunts softly.

He holds Oikawa close, encouraging the omega to wrap his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck, and his legs around Iwaizumi’s waist. The alpha suppresses a snarl at the feeling of slick on the head of his cock. 

“What are…” Oikawa breathes.

“Bedroom.” Iwaizumi understands what he’s trying to ask. “I’m not fucking you on the couch.”

The omega responds with a breathy sound in Iwaizumi’s ear. As the alpha walks them both to the bedroom, Oikawa is innocent enough, loosening his grip around Iwaizumi’s torso. But it only takes a moment for the alpha to realize what he’s really doing, when the omega’s ass happens to bounce on his cock in time with his steps. 

_ “Fuck, Tooru.”  _

“What is it, alpha?” Oikawa tries to sound naive, like that’s fucking possible. 

Iwaizumi doesn’t stop him until he kicks their bedroom door behind him. He sets the omega on the edge of the mattress, but Oikawa starts to slip forward onto the floor, onto his knees. Iwaizumi holds him in place on the bed.

Oikawa whines in protest. He whines, presents his glands, looks like he might cry, until Iwaizumi yanks his skirt down his legs. Oikawa falls still. 

Instead, it’s Iwaizumi bending down. 

The alpha sucks in a dark breath through his teeth. Slick, this close to his nose, makes his mouth water. Some saliva drips down his fangs, down onto Oikawa’s milky white stomach. 

“But I thought I was going to suck you off.”

“We’ll get to that.” Iwaizumi drags a finger along the band of the omega’s panties. His fingertip comes away wet. “I told you, I’m making it up to you. So let me take care of you first.” 

He kneels beside the bed, taking one of Oikawa’s thighs in each of his hands. His fingers knead into supple flesh. 

“Tooru. How many times can you cum in one night?” 

“What?” Oikawa yelps. His eyelashes flutter down at the alpha. “I-I don’t know…”

“That’s not true.” Iwaizumi shakes his head. “Think back for me. The most you’ve come in one night. You can do it.”

The omega lets out a pitiful sort of whine as he tries to sit up on the bed, but Iwaizumi’s grip on his legs keeps him down. 

“Come on, you can do it.” Iwaizumi murmurs again. “I won’t knot you until you tell me.”

Iwaizumi can smell the sheer panic in Oikawa’s scent before he sees the look on the omega’s face, sees his fists dig into the sheets. The alpha’s kidding, obviously, Iwaizumi doesn’t plan on letting Oikawa get away without his knot tonight, but his bluff works. 

“Two,” Oikawa blurts. “When I’m not in heat.”

“Two, huh?”

Iwaizumi makes sure to keep his touch light as he edges a finger along Oikawa’s underwear. He has to use his free arm to keep the omega from squirming too much, and he has to bite underneath his lip to keep himself from ripping these panties off too soon. 

He has a feeling Oikawa doesn’t have much experience with teasing. 

Seeing as the alphas Oikawa has fucked before have only been concerned with themselves, Iwaizumi assumes it was ten minutes of sticking their tongues down his throat, tearing his clothes off, and hoping they aim right as they rut against his ass. 

The thought alone has another snarl tripping over his vocal chords. 

“Let’s make that three tonight.” 

He releases Oikawa’s thighs, only to pull the omega’s panties off. A trail of slick follows down the omega’s smooth, cream legs, and Iwaizumi starts at his ankle, licking, kissing, marking up the skin that belongs to him. If it doesn’t belong to him now, it will soon. 

Oikawa’s hands desperately search for something to grab onto until Iwaizumi’s tongue makes it to his inner thighs. The omega’s fingers latch onto his hair, around his neck, sighs pouring from his open mouth as Iwaizumi’s teeth meet skin that tastes like cotton candy. 

_ “Iwa, Iwa, fuck, Iwa.” _

With his fangs elongated like this, Iwaizumi can’t help the bite marks he leaves, noticeable red spots that stand out against milk. Any blood he draws, he licks, his alpha saliva working to heal the wounds, but Oikawa seems to be eating this up, his legs kicking out. 

Iwaizumi thinks about using his alpha register to calm the omega down, but he hesitates. Those alphas who fucked Oikawa before, Oikawa told him they always used that voice. 

The alpha kisses more along the omega’s leg leading to his cock, which he’s been avoiding until the right moment. 

Already, Iwaizumi knows he’s different from those other alphas. If not for kissing his thighs, then for knowing Oikawa’s favorite ice cream. 

With one last lick, Iwaizumi looks up between Oikawa’s legs. 

“Calm down.” Iwaizumi says. 

A command. 

Immediately, Oikawa’s legs fall limp against the mattress. His hands release what sheets he was clutching, thighs sitting open on his body’s accord. With his hair sprayed around his pink forehead, he rolls his neck to the side, cheek against the blankets. He whimpers softly, once or twice. And then Iwaizumi sees him smiling. 

“Was that okay?” Iwaizumi rubs his hands along Oikawa’s legs. 

_ “Fuck,” _ Oikawa sounds winded.  _ “Yes. _ More than okay.”

“You mean you like it?”

“Only when it’s your voice.”

Iwaizumi smiles back. He lowers his head back to Oikawa’s thighs, finally, staring at the reward that is Oikawa Tooru’s ass. The omega’s cock throbs against his stomach, precum leaking down to join with his slick. He’s average, for an omega, meaning he’s small, and the emphasis is on his tight entrance waiting for the alpha’s cock. 

Iwaizumi digs his thumbs into the space around the omega’s ass.

“Don’t squirm. Be good.”

Another command.

Oikawa whines in response. 

Iwaizumi begins slow, licking a stripe up Oikawa’s ass. He gathers the dripping slick on his tongue. 

Even with the alpha command in control of the omega’s body, Oikawa’s toes twitch, and his neck rises off the mattress. His face contorts into the personification of pleasure, slanted eyebrows and his jaw as wide as it can be, red lips. 

Iwaizumi teases his tongue inside, surprised by how difficult it is for him to get past the omega’s squeezing entrance. With all of this slick, it seems like Oikawa should be looser than he is. Iwaizumi forces the omega’s thighs to open wider. 

“Iwa, _ Iw-” _ Oikawa’s voice cuts off sharply, as Iwaizumi gets his tongue inside the omega.  _ “Fuck me!” _ He cries out, struggling against the alpha command keeping him down. 

Iwaizumi’s suspicion that Oikawa hasn’t been eaten out too many times seems to be true. 

He moves his tongue as far as he can reach, along warm walls that taste just how he’s fantasized, dreamed about licking into this omega. 

That’s all it takes for Oikawa’s whines to stutter. His body tenses, spasms, and then stills. Cum drips down his leg, past Iwaizumi’s cheek.

_ First orgasm.  _

Taking advantage of Oikawa’s sensitivity, Iwaizumi continues to dart his tongue into him and traces a hand up his body to his cock. Just two pumps is all it takes. 

_ Second orgasm. _

Oikawa yelps, his back still arched from his first orgasm just moments ago, as his body somehow reaches orgasm again. He can’t remember, he can’t think of the last time an alpha gave him this kind of treatment. Not that it’s treatment, because it’s the bare minimum, but the omega’s body trills at the sensation on his cock. 

He can feel the slick gushing out of him, into Iwaizumi’s mouth. The alpha’s tongue touches places Oikawa hasn’t felt before. Black and white spots appear in his vision, from being unable to move for the most part, but from the feeling. The alpha command sits over him like a weight on his limbs, on his mind, making him wonder why he would want to squirm in the first place. 

Being at an alpha’s mercy with that voice has always filled Oikawa with contempt before. It’s never made sex better than he could imagine, like this, but it’s Hajime. 

Oikawa feels cold as Iwaizumi’s tongue abruptly leaves him, as cold as he can feel when his senses are heightened and numb all at once. 

“Open your mouth wide.” Iwaizumi commands. 

Not a thought passes through the omega’s mind as his jaw falls open. Like breathing. 

The alpha gets up over Oikawa’s body, his legs straining on either side of him. He fits their mouths together. A kiss, until Oikawa tastes himself sliding down his tongue as Iwaizumi gives him everything he didn’t already swallow. 

“Now,” the alpha wipes a bit of slick that dribbled down the omega’s lip. “You wanna suck me off?” Oikawa still can’t move. “Then be good and suck me off.”

He shifts to the edge of the mattress to sit against the headboard. If it weren’t for the alpha command coaxing Oikawa’s body to follow him with his tongue perched on his lip, he can’t imagine his heart would still be beating. 

Oikawa sits on his knees between the alpha’s legs. Before he can admire Iwaizumi’s cock like he wants to, all red and royal and bigger than anything he’s seen before, he slips onto his elbows in response to the command. Iwaizumi has to guide himself into his mouth. 

The omega braces for pain against the back of his throat like he’s used to, but Iwaizumi is gentle with his first thrust. Oikawa tastes alpha, salivates around alpha, and his mouth stretches to accommodate his size, but it’s a good feeling. 

“Hold steady,” Iwaizumi grunts. 

Oikawa feels his limbs stiffen on their own. His jaw locks, and his tongue quivers against Iwaizumi’s veins while the alpha works his way to the back of his throat, back out. His thrusts increase steadily, gentle, as he fucks up into Oikawa’s pliant mouth, once, twice, and then he lets go of Oikawa and fucks him with only his hips. 

_ “God, _ fuck, so  _ good,” _ Iwaizumi keeps eye contact with the omega. “So good, Tooru. You’re so good.” 

It’s better than the alpha’s tongue in his ass, knowing he’s making Iwaizumi feel good. Oikawa keens with his cock in his mouth. Iwaizumi must like that because he growls, slamming his dick to the top of the omega’s throat. 

Without thinking, Oikawa takes a deep breath through his nose. He angles his head down, relaxes the muscles above his shoulders. 

Iwaizumi’s cock slips back. Downwards.

_ “Shit, Tooru.”  _

Iwaizumi gapes at him, wide-eyed. His irises are black, like the corners of the room where the lamplight doesn’t reach. 

Oikawa chokes down more of the alpha’s cock while he can. He rises up on his haunches and slides back down, uncomfortably at first, but the grunts, flinches, cursing from Iwaizumi encourages him. 

Iwaizumi really is the biggest. Oikawa can feel it in the rippling of his neck muscles compared to the alphas he’s deepthroated before. 

Iwaizumi eventually meets him, fucking his throat with one hand ripping at his hair and the other gripping the headboard. From the force of Iwaizumi’s hips alone, the bed rattles the walls. Oikawa is barely aware of that, though. 

He abruptly gags as Iwaizumi is halfway down his throat. Even more tightness, pressure, and Oikawa lets out a muffled mewl knowing what the sensation is. Iwaizumi is careful as he pulls out the beginnings of his knot. 

He strokes himself down as the omega falls onto his elbows again. 

“You alright?” Iwaizumi breathes, ruffling the omega’s hair with his free hand.

Oikawa nods. 

“Let me know when you’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” Oikawa sounds hoarse, but his eagerness comes through. 

Iwaizumi tilts the omega’s face up. “You sure?”

_ “Please.” _

“Show me you’re ready then. Show me how much you want it. Go on.”

Oikawa looks distressed as he whines, pouts at the alpha. Hasn’t he shown how much he wants Iwaizumi’s cock already? But his omegan instincts know what to do better than he does, nudging him to turn around. 

With a whine, he drops onto all fours, his glands angled for Iwaizumi, his drenched ass inches from the alpha’s face. And even though he isn’t facing him, Oikawa opens his mouth, lets his sore tongue roll out. 

“That’s it,” Iwaizumi licks his fangs. “That’s it, Tooru.”

He digs his fingertips into the omega’s plump ass. 

And it occurs to Iwaizumi where he is. 

In bed with Oikawa Tooru. In their own apartment. Close to midnight, his hands around Oikawa Tooru’s ass. The same body that, all those months ago, he saw at the carwash and wanted to fuck right then and there on the pavement. The same body alphas on the street turn around to stare at, alphas in the store salivate at the scent. 

All his. 

Property of Iwaizumi.

He guides his bucking hips to the omega’s entrance, tapping Oikawa’s ass with the head of his cock to lather some slick on. Omegas like Oikawa don’t need prep. 

As Iwaizumi sinks the tip into him, Oikawa sobs. 

The alpha worries it’s a distressed sound, but Oikawa is smiling again, tears that laugh in his eyelids, and his pheromones urge the alpha to continue. 

And he does, sinking until he bottoms out ridiculously deep.

“Fuck, I can-” Oikawa gasps. “I can feel you. In my stomach.”

Iwaizumi leans over him, runs his hand over Oikawa’s torso. “I can feel you, too.” 

He bucks forward, reaching as far as he can into the omega, feeling Oikawa jerk beneath him, and then he pulls out, inches out. Oikawa is tighter than any omega he’s ever fucked. 

“You’re squeezing me to death, Tooru,” Iwaizumi groans in his ear. “So tight for me, hm?”

Oikawa rolls his hips back against him with a whine. Impatient. 

Iwaizumi nips the cuff of the omega’s ear. If that’s how he’s going to be, then he’ll stop holding back. 

Pulling out to the hilt, he rams the omega’s hips back against him instead of fucking forward. Oikawa yips, startled, and Iwaizumi grabs a clump of the omega’s hair. One hand pulling his head back until his neck arches, one hand yanking his ass back onto the alpha’s cock. 

“Stay just like this,” Iwaizumi pants gruffly. A command. “Just like this. Good- _ fuck- _ good omega.” 

He can feel Oikawa’s body responding, tensing yet relaxing, accommodating what Iwaizumi’s cock wants inside him, what the alpha’s command requests. And like he requested, Oikawa remains as still as he can to let Iwaizumi do what he likes. 

As the alpha feels his knot begin to form with each thrust forward, his fangs sting. He finds himself staring at the swollen place on Oikawa’s neck, too, his instincts already urging him to do the next natural thing. 

_ Bond him.  _

Iwaizumi begins fucking into Oikawa rather than pulling him back, leaning over the omega’s back and brushing hair out of Oikawa’s face.

“I wanna bite you,” He breathes. “I know we haven’t talked about-”

“Bond me, Iwa,” Oikawa tips his head back. “Bite me. Please. I’m yours, Iwa, please bite me.”

The omega’s pheromones scream the same thing at Iwaizumi if Oikawa didn’t seem desperate enough. His fangs only burn more, grow sharp enough to scrape his own tongue. Continuing to fuck him, Iwaizumi focuses on Oikawa’s red glands. 

He traces the spot, tasting the flavor of his omega, and entertains the feeling of what bonding feels like, media and what he’s heard aside. His vision bleeds red the closer he gets to knot, until there’s only red left in his brain. 

His knot swells, catches inside the omega. 

Oikawa arches his back. His toes curl. 

Iwaizumi bites. 

There’s nothing.

There’s nothing, for a moment, other than water rushing in his ears, and Oikawa’s pink hazing his eyes. 

It hits him like falling in a dream. Everything. 

That cliche about reliving your life before you die, except every memory Iwaizumi has with Oikawa consumes him. Everything, and the only thing his senses are capable of experiencing is Tooru, the only face he’s ever seen is Tooru. Somewhere, there’s his own scent, but it quickly swells, collides, cries with Oikawa’s scent, until it’s them, and it’s them. 

And then he can taste flooding copper. Iwaizumi can see brown and milk, hear ringing and breaths, feel the ecstasy of his cock unloading into omega. 

Until his knot stops pumping his cum into Oikawa, Iwaizumi’s teeth refuse to leave the omega’s neck. 

Minutes pass. Iwaizumi assumes it’s minutes, but it could be seconds, or hours, until he can unmount Oikawa. 

They collapse on top of each other. 

Breathing. 

_ Orgasm three.  _

Iwaizumi looks over at Oikawa. 

Oikawa is already looking at him.

Despite his exhaustion, Iwaizumi’s instincts tell him to tend to his omega’s bond mark. He rolls over enough to see his glands, swollen pink joined by blood trickling down his skin. The alpha laps at the spot. 

Oikawa’s fingers tickle Iwaizumi’s ear. 

“Finally,” Oikawa murmurs. 

“Hm?”

“You finally fucked me.”

Iwaizumi smirks. 

“I did, didn’t I.”

“I’m finally your omega.”

“You’ve been my omega.”

“But officially. No-going-back officially.”

Iwaizumi gives the mark a final lick before turning his full attention to the brown of Oikawa’s eyes. 

“Finally, hm.”

“Iwa.”

“Yeah?”

“Hajime.”

Iwaizumi raises his eyebrows.

“I’m so happy, Iwa.”

“I’m so happy.” Iwaizumi says back.

Oikawa tugs Iwaizumi’s fingers to his chest to play with. 

“But we’re not done yet,” the alpha says. “Your turn.”

Laughing, Oikawa kisses the tips of Iwaizumi’s fingers before struggling up on his knees. He brushes over the alpha’s glands, the small place reserved for an omega. 

“Ready?” Oikawa’s eyes gleam. 

“I’ve been ready my whole life.”

Oikawa bites. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! before anyone asks, oikawa is on birth control !!! should u always use a condom to protect against STIs and for additional safety anyway? absolutely ! but this is omegaverse so,,, i digress.....
> 
> tbh i love how this is the longest chapter yet and it's the iwaoi porn chapter :) 💖 please god i hope this made u horny HHHHHHH *writing smut insecurity intensifies*
> 
> in other news, thank u for all the support on my bokuaka fic so far 🥺❤️ and also i started a kiyoyachi fic aND BEFORE U SAY U DONT READ WLW FICS PLS i hope, maybe, if u really want to, then you'll think about reading my kiyoyachi fic 🥺🥺 no pressure ofc ofc ofc but just letting u know ok MWAH 💘💘
> 
> as always, comments are vvv appreciated ! (even though i always forget to respond to them for actual weeks, i promise i read them the day you comment and seriously, it's obvious when i'm reading comments bc im just blushing and giggling at my phone) >> 🥰
> 
> i know my authors notes are long, thank you for reading this far honey :) and of course, i have your reminder for you - every few minutes, you're a different person than who you just were. maybe your favorite color was green 2 years ago, but now it's blue. you are supposed to change.  
> you're also supposed to eat every day and drink water and put your emotional health before school & work, okay? i am giving you permission to do that. i love you 💕


	17. Chapter 17

The streets are happier, now that it’s spring. 

Ushijima looks down at his feet on the sidewalk. The sidewalk looks different. It’s pink. Warm, like the rest of the air is in April, as Ushijima slips his jacket off to tuck it on his arm. He should come to the city in spring more often. 

“Wakatoshi-kun!” 

Tendou beckons him over to a shop window. Ushijima almost forgot why they’re here. 

“Did you find something?” Ushijima asks, joining his boyfriend. 

“Not yet.” Tendou looks back through the window. “But does any of this remind you of him? You know Oikawa-san better than I do.”

Ushijima blanks. He stares at everything on display, but his mind is blank. 

He shakes his head. 

“Let’s go somewhere else then.”

Tendou links their arms, pulling the alpha to another shop.

“Why don’t you think the plateware is enough?” Ushijima asks. 

“Spending a million yen on plates and bowls is less of a gift than it is a chore.” Tendou reminds him. “It’s their wedding. The houseware is fine, but I think we should find something thoughtful, too. After everything we’ve been through together.”

Ushijima nudges Tendou to the side as a bicycle passes them.

“After everything we’ve been through...” 

They look inside the next store together, and another one across the street. Ushijima tries to think about what Oikawa likes, his favorite colors, but all of those dinners, and the omega never told him. 

Oikawa, if anything, is less of a stranger now than they were before the wedding. But Ushijima keeps getting distracted by city things, as they shop. 

After a few minutes, he notices something in a window they haven’t looked at yet. 

He stops, staring, and Tendou stops with him, trying to follow his gaze. 

“Do you see something?” The omega looks back at Ushijima.

“I don’t know.”

Ushijima had only been looking in that direction because the glass is clean. He gets closer, and he can’t see any smudges. And then his eyes fall on something small, cherry brown and wooden.

“Are you looking at the music box?” Tendou asks. 

“Music box?”

Tendou points at what Ushijima is looking at. “That’s a music box.”

Leaning towards the glass, Ushijima sees orchid blossoms etched into the box. Tendou pulls him inside to look closer, and when they open it, a song plays in quiet twinkling that Ushijima hasn’t heard before. 

“I want to get it for him.” Ushijima says. 

Tendou brushes a piece of Ushijima’s bangs across his forehead, smiling with his eyes. 

“Good choice.”

Ushijima holds the box close to his side as they walk out of the store, his other arm wrapped around Tendou’s shoulders. On the sidewalk, Ushijima holds the omega still to scent him. Tendou purrs only loud enough for the two of them to hear. 

The omega lifts Ushijima’s free hand to his cheek. He smiles into it, holding the alphas’s fingers with both of his hands. 

“Wakatoshi-kun,” Tendou says, nuzzling his hand. “What made you choose the music box? Does Oikawa-san like them?”

Ushijima rubs his thumb over Tendou’s high cheekbone. He’s smiling, at the omega being affectionate like this, in the way Tendou has grown to be affectionate. 

It’s hard for him to remember how he thought he loved Oikawa now, when Tendou gives him a side glance and he feels so loud that his chest quiets. 

“I don’t know.” Ushijima says. “I don’t know why it made me think of him.”

“Well maybe that’s why.”

Ushijima can’t figure out what Tendou means by that, all the way down the street. 

“Mmm,” Tendou shuts his eyes, crossing his steps. “What a perfect time to have a wedding. Spring is perfect. Don’t you think?”

Ushijma pauses on the sidewalk. “You want a spring wedding?” This seems important. 

Tendou’s eyes narrow as he watches Ushijima, and he nods, grinning all the while. 

“Will you marry me, Satori?” 

“You ask me that every day, Wakatoshi-kun.”

“You told me I should.”

“I know I did.” 

Tendou breaks away from Ushijma’s arm, stretching his shoulders. The omega has started wearing his hair down almost every day. It’s a little bit longer than it was when they first met, and he has to brush it out of his eyes often. It’s beautiful, when Ushijima can see tints of auburn reflecting off strands in the sun, but in the dark, too, when it’s red like his tongue. 

Ushijima thought it was dyed red. 

“Wakatoshi-kun,” Tendou says. 

He was surprised to find out Tendou’s hair isn’t naturally black, but that he was born with red hair like this. 

“Yes.” Tendou says. 

“Yes what?”

Tendou laughs. “Yes, I’ll marry you.” 

The tree above them rustles, as spring breezes burst down the street. But their clothes don’t wrinkle, and their hair remains still, and Ushijima’s skin doesn’t feel any wind stepping forward, kissing Tendou with both hands on the omega’s cheeks. 

“Really?” Ushijima pulls back, breathless.

“You kissed me, so I don’t know if I can take it back.” 

“You can.”

“I won’t.” 

“Tomorrow? Next week?”

“Oikawa-san’s wedding is next week.” Tendou shakes his head. “And I want to have a big wedding, Wakatoshi-kun, with everyone, and I want to pick out a good dress.” He squeezes Ushijima’s arms. “Let’s wait. Next spring.”

“We can wait two springs if you want.” 

“That’s too long.”

“Never. It won’t be too long, if it means you’ll be my husband at the end of it.”

“Sometimes I forget you’re an alpha, Wakatoshi-kun, until you say things like that.” 

Ushijima scents him again. Maybe because the breeze brushed some of the alpha’s scent off Tendou, and maybe because he never wants Tendou to forget that he’s an alpha. The omega preens into the feeling. 

“I love you, Satori.” 

Tendou tenses under him.

“What?” Ushijima crinkles his eyebrows, looks down at the omega. “What’s wrong?”

He’s told Tendou that he loves him before, but the omega never froze like this. The alpha panics as soon as he notices tears glittering in Tendou’s eyes. 

But Tendou presses delicate fingers to Ushijima’s mouth, before he can say anything else. 

“You’ve said that before,” Tendou says, laughs, as a few tears break through. “But that’s the first time you’ve said it like you know it. Like you know what it means.” 

“I love you, Satori.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

  
  


* * *

“Zip me, Atsu.”

Sakusa straightens up. Atsumu, squinting close to the mirror as he styles his hair, sniffs and turns his attention to the alpha’s dress. 

The zipper slips up the curve of Sakusa’s spine easily. 

“Beautiful,” Atsumu says. “How come I haven’t seen this dress before?”

“I haven’t had a reason to wear it.” Sakusa replies simply. 

But he agrees with Atsumu. The dress is beautiful, and the deep green shade of blue that claims it seems to seep into his skin. It has a slit, which he was opposed to until he tried it on and liked how subtly his leg cuts out. Black heels give him height neither of them are used to, but Sakusa has a feeling Atsumu likes it. 

“We should make more reasons then.” Atsumu grins.

To match, Atsumu has a pocket square the same color as Sakusa’s dress tucked into his suit jacket.

“Hm.” Sakusa eyes him in the mirror. “The same can be said for you.”

“I’ll wear a suit for you whenever you want, Omi.”

“Will you.”

Sakusa applies mascara, careful not to smudge the glitter on his eyelids. As he slips the cap back on, Atsumu is leaning back against the sink counter, watching him. He knows that look, after living with the omega for six months. 

“What is it, Atsu.”

The omega chews his bottom lip.

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” Sakusa says. 

“Even with a crowd and everything? We haven’t been to anything like this before. Not a group thing like this.”

“I’ll be fine,” the alpha repeats himself, pulling out his highlighter. “It’s outside. I’ll wear a mask. You’ll have your patches. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to deal with discomfort in a group of people.”

“I know, but I’m just worried about you, Omi. That’s all.”

Sakusa starts to speak again. But he exhales instead, and dabs a brush against his nose. Their last serious conversation was about exactly this. Accepting concern from others, or just from Atsumu, for now. 

From the corner of his eye, Sakusa catches the omega smiling. 

“The more important question is, are  _ you _ going to be fine?” Sakusa asks. 

“‘Course I will.” Atsumu says. “I’ll be with you the whole time.” 

“And what if someone wants to talk to me for a moment, privately? Like Iwaizumi.”

“Why would he wanna do that?” 

“I’m just giving a hypothetical.”

“Hypotheticals don’t matter.”

“They should. What would you do in that situation?”

“Anything anyone needs to say to you, they can say to me.”

“And what if they can’t?”

“Don’t make this more difficult than it already is, Omi.” Atsumu grinds his jaw. 

“I’m not. This is the reality of it. After what happened yesterday-”

“It won’t happen again, alright?” 

Sakusa puts his brush back into his makeup bag. He tries to keep his nose from wrinkling, as Atsumu’s pheromones tell Sakusa that the omega is more agitated than he seems. Six months have made his pheromones more bearable, but not by much. Rather than bad, they’re still… overwhelming. 

Maybe moreso, now that Sakusa’s feelings have grown.

Exponentially grown. 

Six months have, however, taught Sakusa the better ways to manage Atsumu’s separation anxiety. 

He places both hands on the omega’s shoulders, grounding him, and himself, before beginning the scenting process. It’s easier than it used to be, but still slow. Still too much and not enough at once. 

Atsumu shudders, gasps quietly and falls forward into the alpha’s chest. 

Sakusa gently tugs aside Atsumu’s collar to reveal the faded bite mark in his skin. It’s not a bond mark, regardless of how the omega’s new project is convincing Sakusa they should claim each other. But it’s pretend, for his separation anxiety, and the alpha doesn’t mind sinking his teeth into the place beside Atsumu’s scent glands if it will help. 

He bites, carefully. Atsumu begins to relax. 

“Sorry,” the omega mumbles. 

“Don’t apologize.” Sakusa licks the mark. “Just don’t lie.”

“I didn’t-”

“When I came back from the store yesterday, you were a wreck. It’s not ridiculous for me to worry about this afternoon after that. Don’t lie and tell me it won’t happen again if you don’t know that for sure.” 

Atsumu falls quiet. 

Sakusa pulls the omega away from his chest, fixing Atsumu’s collar and redoing his tie. He doesn’t normally like to, but he releases the smallest amount of calming pheromones he can control. 

“I love you, Omi.”

“I love you, too.” Sakusa says. 

They finish in the bathroom, and the alpha cleans up behind them while Atsumu gathers everything they need by the door. Sakusa checks that he has their goshugi in his bag, an extra mask and sanitizing wipes and an umbrella, in case it rains. 

“Ready?” Atsumu asks. 

“Are your patches on?” 

The omega shows him. 

“Good. I’m ready if you are.”

“I love weddings,” Atsumu sighs happily, linking their arms as they make their way down to the lobby. “Samu and Rin got married three years ago, but that was the last time I went to one.” 

“What was it like?”

“Oh, they had it at this big venue in Kobe. Lots of people and everything, since Samu somehow has a million friends.” Atsumu sneers at something indistinguishable in front of them. They push through the doors out onto the sidewalk. “I’ve never been to an outdoor wedding before.”

“The guest list is small according to Iwaizumi.” Sakusa tells him, scanning the street for a taxi. “I think it’s nice. An outdoor wedding.”

“You only think it’s nice because of the fresh air.”

“It is.”

Sakusa waves a car to the curb, opening the rear door for Atsumu. He tells the driver the name of the park Iwaizumi gave him. A twenty-five minute drive without traffic.

He fastens his seatbelt, and then he nods at the omega. Atsumu grins, sliding into the middle seat beside Sakusa, nuzzling underneath the alpha’s arm. 

Sakusa exhales. It might sound exasperated to the driver, but Atsumu knows it’s the happiest sound Sakusa is comfortable making. 

“So…” Atsumu murmurs a few minutes into the ride. “Where do you think we should get married?”

“Don’t start, Atsu.”

“I’m just saying!”

Sakusa brushes his hand up and down Atsumu’s arm. 

“Indoors.” He says. 

“What about the fresh air?”

“There’s too much dirt outside.” 

Atsumu laughs. 

Sakusa looks out the window. 

He would probably like an autumn wedding. Not this autumn, or the next, but an autumn a few years from now. 

Sakusa could ask for an autumn wedding ten years from now. Atsumu would laugh like the world is starting, like he just did. 

All this time, and Atsumu is beside him in the backseat of a taxi. 

Just like he said he would be. 

* * *

Oikawa sits, legs pressed together, fingers tracing the teeth of his comb, unblinking in the mirror. 

“Would you relax?” Suga sighs. He tilts Oikawa’s face up as he does his makeup. “It’s your wedding day. This is exciting! Smile!” 

“I’m nervous,” Oikawa whines. “I don’t know what to do with myself! I always thought I would be angry the day I got married, not nervous. This is stupid.” 

“That’s just part of it. You remember the mess I was on my wedding day. Even though I had nothing to worry about because I was marrying the most perfect man alive.” Suga says. 

“You’re not helping.”

“Just think about Iwa.”

“That makes it worse!” 

Suga shakes his head, makes an exasperated noise with his tongue against his teeth. He dips his brush into cream eyeshadow. 

“Hold still.”

Oikawa tries not to move, but every part of his body seems to be trembling. The brush is cold on his eyelids. 

As much as Suga was a ball of nerves when he and Daichi got married last December, it’s different. Suga just had the typical wedding anxiety that everyone has. He wasn’t nervous for the same reason as Oikawa. The same reason Oikawa has been trying to deny leading up to April fifth. 

Iwaizumi is his true mate. He accepts that now. 

And it’s not that Oikawa can even begin to imagine spending the rest of his lives with anyone else, or that he would ever want or need anyone other than Iwaizumi. But there’s something about a wedding, because it can be undone. 

“Stop it.” Suga says.

Oikawa opens his eyes. “Stop what?”

“You're thinking about your father.”

“I’m not!”

“If that’s true, then you’re thinking about something related to him. I know that look, Tooru.”

“I was just-” Oikawa’s cut off as Suga lifts his jaw to blush his cheeks. “I was just thinking… what if Iwaizumi, ten years from now, what if Iwaizumi-”

“Babe, you’re being dumb.” 

“I’m just-”

“You and Iwaizumi have been bonded for six months. I promise you, you’re stuck with him for the rest of your life. I mean, have you seen the way he  _ looks _ at you, Tooru?” Suga smudges something under Oikawa’s eyelid. “He’s like me. Stupid for loving you unconditionally. And stubborn, because we’re never, ever leaving you.” 

He dabs some gloss onto Oikawa’s lips. 

“That’s the last thing you need to worry about. Okay?” Suga smiles. 

Oikawa nods. 

He doesn’t realize how much that helped until the comb stops shaking in his hands. 

“Alright...” Suga steps back, critiquing Oikawa’s face for a moment. “Now hand me the headpiece.” 

Suga’s fingers combing through his freshly blow dried hair also help, and by the time Suga finishes, steps back again, adjusts one last thing before clapping his hands together, Oikawa feels like he might be ready for this. 

“Oh…”

Oikawa stands up. 

“Koushi…”

He steps closer to the mirror. 

“I love it.”

Oikawa’s reflection is smiling. As one hand rests on the vanity, his other finds his neck, as he marvels at the soft blend of white and pink. Pink on his cheekbones, silvery white in his inner eyes and pink in the corners, pink on his bottom lip and white light bouncing off the top of his nose. It all complements the flowers resting in his hair. 

The comb sits snugly in his chocolate brown curls. Cherry blossoms branch off of it, decorating his hair with pink and white and moments of diamond. 

“I love it.” Oikawa murmurs, smiling to keep his tears from falling. 

Suga hugs him from behind. He props his chin on Oikawa’s shoulder, admiring his work in the mirror. He kisses Oikawa’s hair. 

“Now let’s get you in your dress.”

Oikawa slips out of his robe while Suga pulls the dress off its hanger. It’s a small space, the bridal tent they’re in, but Suga did his best to make it cozy with flower petals on the floor and candles on every surface. From inside, it doesn’t feel like just a tent in the park. 

“Harumi made this?” Suga asks. 

“She did.” Oikawa spreads his arms as Suga undoes the back of the dress. “I don’t know how. Harumi can do everything.”

“It’s beautiful.” 

Oikawa steps into it, carefully, and Suga pulls it up around his body. Suga’s gentle as he fits the buttons into place. 

“Okay,” Suga smooths out his waist. “Shoes, then we’re done.”

Holding onto Suga’s hands, Oikawa slips into the simple white pumps. These and the flower headpiece are probably more expensive than the whole wedding, because they’re gifts from Suga. 

Oikawa never imagined his wedding would be like this. Low-budget, at a public park with hand-made clothes, and a total of five guests who are there for him. He imagined a dress that cost 100 million, emeralds for wedding favors. The biggest venue in the city with a thousand people he didn’t know, and his father. 

Instead, Iwaizumi had to pick up extra shifts over the last six months to afford just this. 

He must’ve borrowed money to buy the ring, Oikawa thinks, as he looks down at his fingers. A small diamond on a thin, gold band. 

Iwaizumi proposed when the sun was setting last November. 

It was perfect. 

“I think you’re ready, Tooru.” 

Oikawa turns back to the mirror. 

He’s seen the dress before, when Harumi had him try it on last month. But this is the first time he’s seen it, with the flowers in his hair. 

It’s white and sleeveless. The band hugging his waist is made of thick material, held in place by a bow on his side, and wide ribbons that fall down the dress to his knees. It’s heavier than he remembers. He feels like he’s getting married today. 

Suddenly, he hears sobs behind him.

“Koushi?” He grabs the omega’s shoulder, concern flooding him as the other omega begins to cry uncontrollably. “Koushi, what’s wrong? Should I get Daichi?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Suga does his best to wipe his tears without ruining his makeup. His eyes look lighter, a softer brown, as he cries. “I’m fine! You just- You look so beautiful, Tooru. I can’t believe you’re getting married, and-”

“Oh my god, don’t you  _ dare _ start.” 

“My best friend is getting  _ married.” _

“You just got married, too.”

“I know, but- I’m so proud of you, Tooru,” Suga squeezes Oikawa’s wrists. 

“Stop it.” Oikawa breaks. “Shut up, Koushi.” He’s really crying now. “God, you’re going to make me fuck up my makeup.” 

“You better not.”

“It’s not my fault if I do!” 

They’re crying and laughing all over each other, the wedding forgotten. Suga has to dab Oikawa’s cheeks and reapply some of his mascara, but the dress is clean at least. And then he hands Oikawa a bottle of water before disappearing from the bridal tent to check on everything else. 

It’s almost time. 

Oikawa drinks, like Suga told him to. 

If it were his choice, he would have wine instead. He suspects Harumi has something to do with the fact that wine is strictly forbidden in the bridal tent. At that, he smiles. 

He starts to cross his legs, but the dress prevents that. 

He plays with the cap of his water bottle. 

Sitting here, he feels like he should be reflecting on something. How he met Iwaizumi less than a year ago, or how he’s about to have the best day of his life, allegedly. The only thing he’s aware of, though, is the audible thrill of excitement in his ears, and how warm his palms feel. 

“Tooru!” Suga pulls the tent open. 

Behind him, Oikawa sees Harumi. 

“Harumi!”

Even Harumi has her makeup done, her hair up and a traditional kimono wrapped around her. 

“Look at you,” Harumi brings her hand to her mouth as she comes in, taking Oikawa at an arms width. “You look perfect, Tooru.”

“Only because of you.”

“Agreed.” Suga says. 

“Oh, stop.” Harumi laughs. She touches her eye, and that’s when Oikawa notices the tears surfacing. 

He turns away before he starts crying again. “You’re worse than Koushi.”

“How can I help it?” Harumi scoffs, tugs on Oikawa’s arm. “Come on. Don’t make everyone wait any longer.” 

Oikawa’s heart plunges. He swallows, blinks, and he nods even though his whole body feels like dry ice. 

Harumi doesn’t notice. Or if she does, she just squeezes Oikawa’s hand in her own. 

Suga goes on ahead of them both. 

They wait, for a few more minutes in the tent, giving the guests time to sit down. In silence, until Harumi looks up at him.

“Tooru.”

She squeezes Oikawa’s hand tighter. 

“You don’t need to be worried. You deserve this, and Iwaizumi is good.” She says.

And like always, Oikawa doesn’t have to say anything for Harumi to know. 

“That’s all I’ll say. I know you don’t like it when I’m too sentimental.” She teases a corner of the tent up to look outside. “Ready?”

Oikawa takes a breath. 

“I love you, Harumi.”

She pulls at Oikawa’s dress like there’s a piece of lint, but there isn’t, and runs her hands over his chest. The look on her face would have made him cry, a few minutes ago. And then she leads them out into the sunlight. 

* * *

Iwaizumi is glad he chose this park.

It’s on the outskirts of the city, and even though it was sort of haul getting permission and setting everything up, chairs and tables and decorations, it was worth it. 

The cherry blossoms bloomed three days ago. 

Looking past the trees, Iwaizumi can see other people out enjoying the good weather. They’re lucky, tucked away like this, privately enough. And the weather  _ is _ good, warm without being too dry or too humid, and just the right amount of wind to grace them with falling blossoms every few minutes. 

Oikawa was against the park idea, until Iwaizumi told him about the cherry trees. 

Normally, Iwaizumi would feel awkward standing in front of all these people, beneath an arch of white flowers. But all he feels is anticipation, because any minute now…

Daichi and Suga sit towards the left, along with Ushijima and an omega Iwaizumi doesn’t recognize. That was a long argument between them, deciding if they should invite Ushijima. Iwaizumi was stubborn as hell about it, but Oikawa was, too, and Oikawa wanted him to come for some reason. 

Oikawa isn’t friends with Ushijima, according to him. But they talk on the phone every once in a while, and they sound like friends, when Iwaizumi walks by the bedroom. 

Whatever happened between those two, it’s not Iwaizumi’s business. 

And sitting towards the right, Matsukawa and Hanamaki entertain the small group that makes up Iwaizumi’s family. His parents, both women and both alphas, and Sakusa and Atsumu. By entertaining, they’re probably annoying them, but something about all of them, it makes Iwaizumi warm. 

An unusually strong breeze rushes through the park. 

It blows Iwaizumi’s tie over his shoulder. He shields his eyes, turning away from the wind. 

He squints through his fingers and all he can see is the swirl of pink and cherry petals. 

It takes him a moment, to notice Oikawa, stepping through the blossoms. 

Oikawa, ribbons of cream billowing out behind him. 

His hair flies back, and his delicate fingers pull at curls to keep them in place. His other arm is tucked firmly into Harumi’s. 

He’s pink. His cheeks and his eyes, and his fingertips. 

And he’s laughing, at the absurdity of the wind. 

Iwaizumi can see the soft brown of his eyes, from here. 

Tooru. 

He looks like one of the cherry blossoms. 

* * *

Oikawa liked the idea of getting married under cherry trees, even if he didn’t like the idea of a park wedding. But Iwaizumi convinced him, with the promise that the omega could choose where the reception was held. 

The limo arrives outside the building a little past five o’clock. 

“How much does this cost him?” Iwaizumi whispers, looks concerningly at the neon lights as he helps Oikawa onto the sidewalk. 

“Don’t worry about it! Nothing’s too expensive for Koushi’s family.” Oikawa holds his dress above the ground. “This is part of our wedding gift from him, remember?” 

“But he’s also paying for our honeymoon.”

“And? Just enjoy yourself, Hajime, alright? You should be grateful!”

“I am grateful,” Iwaizumi slips his arm around Oikawa’s waist. “Just clarifying. Everyone else is inside already?”

Oikawa nods, runs his fingers over Iwaizumi’s jaw. “Koushi had us come a bit later to finish getting everything ready. Dinner, and then party until 5AM.”

“5AM, huh?”

“Oh, come on, Hajime, we aren’t grandparents! That should feel too early to stop!”

Oikawa pouts at him, pinching his cheeks lightly. Iwaizumi grins, as he kisses him. 

“Whatever you say, babe.”

Iwaizumi holds the door as they step inside. 

He shouldn’t be surprised, knowing those two, that it feels more like a nightclub than a wedding reception, even if it’s just barely evening, and even if they only had a handful of guests.

At least the music stays quiet while Iwaizumi helps Oikawa cut the cake, and Matsukawa and Hanamaki make embarrassing speeches. Sakusa remains in the corner with his mask on, which also isn’t surprising to Iwaizumi. Atsumu makes a speech, too, about how he’ll hurt Iwaizumi if the alpha ever hurts Oikawa, which is a little weird, but the omegas both tear up. 

Iwaizumi just laughs. He leans over and nuzzles Oikawa’s neck. 

“As if I would ever think about hurting you,” he says, only loud enough for them to hear.

“I love you,” Oikawa murmurs back. 

They eat and drink, and Oikawa throws cake on Suga, and Suga tries to lick Daichi with icing on his tongue, and Matsukawa asks Iwaizumi when they’re having kids, and Sakusa cleans off all the tables with disinfectant wipes, and Atsumu and Suga somehow become best friends within an hour. 

It’s chaos, but Iwaizumi doesn’t feel it, because he keeps his eyes on Oikawa. His husband, and the bond mark proudly displayed on the omega’s neck. 

He watches Oikawa cry more than he’s ever cried, and laugh hard, the way that makes Iwaizumi want to smother him with kisses. 

Iwaizumi doesn’t drop Oikawa’s hand, either. 

Their fingers stay intertwined, until Iwaizumi can’t see anymore. 

* * *

“Iwa!” Tooru calls, one foot out their apartment door already. He taps freshly done nails along the handle of his suitcase. 

“Why do you still call me that?” Hajime shouts back, probably still in their bedroom. “It’s your name, too!”

“Because it’s cute! Like you!” 

The omega starts giggling as soon as he hears footsteps, the thud of luggage, as Hajime rushes to the front of the apartment and picks Tooru up like he doesn’t weigh a thing. Tooru squeals, resists by kicking out his legs, because it tickles when Hajime kisses his collarbones, lifts his shirt to kiss his stomach. 

“S-Stop! Put me down!”

“Not a chance.”

At some point, Tooru ends up with his legs wrapped around Hajime’s waist. The alpha nudges Tooru’s shirt aside, lapping at the bond mark before sinking his teeth into it, gently. Tooru gasps. He digs his nails into Hajime’s back, buries his forehead into the alpha’s shoulder. 

He might never get used to this shock that runs through his body. 

“Hajime,” Tooru breathes. “We do have a train to catch, as much as I want to stay like this.”

“I know.” 

With one last kiss on their mark, Hajime sets him down. Tooru stays still as Hajime scents him, and then he waits as the alpha gets the rest of their luggage. 

It’s not the honeymoon Tooru imagined, but Suga is paying for a spa retreat for the two of them. Private saunas, meals, silk sheets on a big bed, on the other side of the country so it’ll at least feel like travel. 

And like everything, it’s perfect, because it’s with Hajime.

Tooru takes every chance he can to kiss Hajime’s cheek as they walk down to the lobby. Hajime pretends like it’s annoying, but Tooru knows he can’t get enough. At least Tooru assumes so, because how could he be annoyed by his new husband?

“I love you,” Tooru says, hanging off Hajime’s shoulder as they wait for a taxi. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“Someone’s affectionate today.” Hajime nudges him. 

“I’m always this affectionate.”

“No, you’re not.”

Tooru wrinkles his nose at him. 

“But I love you, too.” Hajime says. 

On the ride to the train station, Tooru rests his head against Hajime in the backseat. Hajime strokes Tooru’s hand. He looks out the window.

“Hey, Tooru. Look.”

The taxi breaks, coincidentally, just long enough for Tooru to see.

“The car wash,” Tooru blinks. “The one you worked at over the summer.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s where we met for the first time.”

“Yeah. It is.”

Tooru smiles as he bites his thumb. Hajime can see the reflection of passing buildings bounce off his irises. 

Tooru looks back at him. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking…” Hajime says. “How grateful I am that you pulled into the parking lot that day.” 

“Me, too.”

Hajime looks out the window again, and the gas station is behind them. 

He sees Tooru instead. Tooru, the brown of his eyes, that smile that killed him. Fingerprints on his jaw, and Tooru behind his lips. Tooru. 

“Tooru.”

-end-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not to be sappy (although at this point, if you read the authors notes i think you know that i am a very sappy person,,) but i'm sad this fic is ending :( i started writing this 171 days ago because i wanted to write iwaoi, i wanted to write omegaverse, and i wanted to try my hand at slowburn. i spent looooots of time writing, editing, brainstorming, fitting plot together, etc, and it was worth it :)  
> final things:  
> -iwa and sakusa finished grad school. they're between jobs right now!  
> -i feel like oikawa is working at an expensive boutique bc it's rich people + clothes + not a lot of work so  
> -also iwa and sakusa are really good friends ok just bc they're different doesnt mean they dont love each other !!!  
> -im making this into a series!! when i wrap up my bokuaka & kiyoyachi fics, i'll be writing a daisuga fic about how they met, etc etc etc :) i also plan on writing a sakuatsu fic that explores tsumu's separation anxiety, and maybe an iwaoi mpreg at some point. feel free to recommend anything else you'd like to see, but i can't guarantee that i will write it ~
> 
> however long you've been reading, since the first chapter or you just binged this (IM SORRY ITS SO LONG IDK WHAT HAPPENED), i hope i make it clear how gracious i am :) really, truly, genuinely, i mean what i say in my authors notes and comments and i cannot emphasize enough how so many of you gave me the motivation and joy i felt while writing this fic !! IDK IM JUST EMOTIONAL ABOUT EVERYTHING ,,
> 
> __  
> i want you to do every single thing that makes you happy. people tell me i'll regret my tattoos. they say "who i was when i was 18 isn't who i am now that i'm 50." i'm not the same person i was a year ago, either. but my friend told me, even if my interest fades, or even if i grow apathetic towards my tattoos, it's a reminder of what i once poured my whole heart into. when i'm 50, i'll look down at my arms and think, "that's who i was when i was 18, and i was so happy. im so happy." i think you can replace getting a tattoo with anything, and someone will say that you'll regret it. i disagree, though, and i want you to do every single thing that makes you happy. i hope, if one person can read this and remember it tomorrow, that you know what i mean~ another ramble, but thank you for reading and caring and i love you


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